


Don't Wish

by rapidoreader93



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Because I love Harry Potter, Boston, Covens, F/F, F/M, Fuck the heteronormativity, Magic, NaNoWriMo 2019, Slow Burn, Witch Hunters, f/f - Freeform, f/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-01-05 22:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 74,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapidoreader93/pseuds/rapidoreader93
Summary: Emma never considered herself a witch. She was just very talented at wishing. If those wishes happened to come true, it was a curious case of happenstance and nothing more. But when she wishes for some life changing, she didn't expect an old college friend to turn up at her door in the middle of night warning her to be careful.Emma and Sarah must navigate a pissed-off local coven, a pack of trigger happy witch hunters, and figure out how to get Emma's magic under control.Author's Note: Story has not yet been beta-ed or edited and is still in progress (Please be kind or reach out to me if you want to help edit!)





	1. Chapter 1

Emma Hornberger loved chocolate cake. She was particularly fond of moist multi-tiered pieces of chocolate cake, their layers overflowing with buttercream frosting. What she did not like was bland wedding cake, and unfortunately, that was what she was eating at the moment. She was sitting at the corner of a room strewn with wedding decorations and pumping loudly with music as most of the party continued unabated in the center. If someone had asked her to come and dance, she would have stood up and gone to join the partiers, but no one did. 

But there was something uncomfortable about her stare. The way she walked made people squirm. Emma had always been aware that there was something different about her, but it didn’t bother her much. Why should it? Her parents had always taught her to be herself and never to apologize for simply acting on her own. 

So here she was, at a wedding that she didn’t particularly want to be at, sitting alone in the corner. As she ate her particularly bland cake, she wondered if there would be any kind of stigma associated with leaving a wedding early. Probably not. Sighing to herself, she stood up and wandered over to the door. But something stopped her. It was probably the guilt from not saying congratulations and goodbye to the new bride and groom, she grumbled to herself. Sighing deeply, Emma wandered over to the dance floor, wincing slightly as the music got louder. 

“Sarah!” she called, trying to weave her way through the throngs of people getting down to the beats of Beyoncé. But her college friend was nowhere to be seen. Which… seemed a bit odd to Emma. Sarah was the bride for god sakes, surely, she should be in the middle of the dance floor. An itch began to form within Emma. Her parents had always said to tone down her unnatural abilities. But it couldn’t hurt this one time. She smiled at some stranger, made as though she wanted to grab drinks, before closely her eyes tightly. 

Emma didn’t really think she had any kind of magical power, she was just very talented at wishing. If those wishes happened to come true, it was a curious case of happenstance and nothing more. She chose to leave out in her calculations that the things she wished almost always came true. Even though she pretended that she only used this ability of hers on rare occasions, she couldn’t deny that it made things so much easier. She smiled in satisfaction when, as she opened her eyes, she could make out Sarah in the corner of the room talking animatedly to her new husband as though she had been there all along. 

She made her goodbyes and finally got out onto the main street. Boston was quiet this time of year, the frost and cold made most late partygoers hesitate before leaving the comfort and heat of their homes. Emma preferred it that way. The streets remained somewhat empty, a few drunk college students that smelled vaguely of weed complaining about the cold passing her by without incident. As she walked down the street, it occurred to Emma how life was too calm and too quiet. She had always wished for a bit more mystery in her life and her wishing power had always obliged. But those wishes always amounted to excitement at work or challenges in school. Emma privately thought that these wishes had somehow gone astray, preferring to think that rather than the other possibility that she herself did not truly want anything that would otherwise mess up her comfortable existence.

This time, however, as she reached her brownstone and opened the mailbox to yet another bill from the Water Authority, she meant it. She closed her eyes and wished as hard as she could for something mysterious, something life-changing and startling to enter her life. In that moment, her eyes shut, she clenched the paper bill tighter, trepidation growing within her. But when she opened her eyes, nothing had changed. Sagging a bit, she sighed and walked upstairs to head up to an early night. 

The next few days passed in a blur. Rather than rewarding her wish, the universe, it seemed, had decided that some boredom and monotony was exactly what Emma needed in her life. Her job as a UI designer fell into dull day-to-day client requests for font and color changes. Her on and off again fling with a college sweetheart turned into Netflix and chill for four nights in a row, minus the chill. Even the weather conspired against her, the Boston skyline a stormy and uninteresting grey. What had gone wrong, she wondered. Was it one wish too many? Were there restrictions on the kind of wishes she could make? 

By the time it reached the weekend, Emma was sick and tired of it. She requested the next week off for mental health reasons and decided that if the world wouldn’t answer to her summons, she would answer it herself. She signed up for three tickets to local museums, one beer tour and another day trip to Salem. She found a running club, joined for an early lunch run on Saturday and immediately canceled her membership fee. That evening, she sat alone in her apartment, eating take-out from the local Thai shop, wondering what she could possibly do to relieve herself of this boredom. 

From nowhere, someone knocked at the door. Her eyes lit up. Finally! Springing to her feet, she bounded towards the door, not caring that her cat Jingles was meowing insistently at her for dinner. “Not now, Jingles,” she called as she strode towards her front door, “there’s adventure afoot.” 

Turning the knob, Emma opened the door just a bit to see who was outside. This was Boston, she couldn’t open her door to anyone. Instead of the dark mysterious stranger she was hoping to see, Emma’s eyes widened. It was Sarah. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon?” She asked, barely believing her eyes. Sarah did not look good. As opposed to the wedding last week where she looked radiant and glowing, this Sarah looked like she had been through a woodchipper. Her hair, normally a bright healthy blonde, was dull and dirty. Her eyes, normally bright, looked furtive, darting this way and that.

Her voice sounded hoarse and underused. “Let me in,” she croaked, “I need your help.” Obeying instantly, Emma opened the door to her old college friend. “God, Sarah. What’s wrong? Should I call the police? You look like you’ve been beaten.” Emma examined her friend closely, noting her trembling hands.  
“No.” Sarah responded; her voice more authoritative. “I needed to see you before it got any worse.”

“Worse?” Emma asked, looking her up and down, “This is already looking pretty bad.” But despite that, she let Sarah in, helping her to a couch. As Sarah sat down and closed her eyes, she let out a sigh. 

“I wasn’t on my honeymoon, Em.” Emma startled at her old nickname but gave a wry smile in return.

“If you were, I’d want to know all the details of your surprisingly kinky sex life.”

“Look, this isn’t a joking matter. I’m here as a warning to you.” Sarah bit out angrily, “I mean – why on earth would you do something like that? It’s like you want to get caught.” 

“Get caught?” Emma started to say “What do you –“ 

“You know what I mean.” Sarah interrupted before she could finish, “Casting spells way over the line for visibility in Boston? In Boston of all places? You couldn’t have picked a worse location.” 

“Are you feeling okay?” Emma asked. Spells? What on earth was she talking about? 

“Obviously not.” Sarah closed her eyes in exhaustion, “I just came here to warn you that you not only have the local witch-hunters after your blood, but the local coven is pissed. We’ve had peace here in Boston for the last decade and you stir things up on the anniversary of that!?”

Emma took stock for a moment. Her friend was quite obviously deranged in the head. Covens? Witch hunters? This wasn’t the 16th century. But, a needling voice said in her mind, you know that your wishing ability isn’t natural. You knew that one day the chickens would come home to roost.

“Suppose I believe you,” she said abruptly, “Why would they hurt you as a warning to me? It’s not as though we talk much at all. I was a goddamn pity invite for your wedding.” 

Sarah glared. “And who did you cast your most recent spell on, idiot? As far as the coven is concerned, if you’re looking for me, I must be somewhat important to you.” Emma reconsidered. Of course, all of this was nonsense, but what Sarah said – it made sense. Emma had wished to see Sarah and it was the last wish she had before the big one. But spells? Magic? 

“I don’t believe it.” She said to Sarah bluntly. “I’ve never heard of magic or spells being real outside of the latest Harry Potter novel. You would think that as a so-called witch, I would know, or someone would have told me.” 

Sarah sighed, looking at Emma as though she was the stupidest child a room full of mentally challenged kindergartners. “Are you telling me you have no idea about any of this?”

“Nope”

Sarah groaned again, massaging her temples. “And you never wondered why your wishes seemed to always come true? You never wondered why you were so awkward?”

Emma shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably. “My parents told me I should always be myself and that magic wasn’t real.” 

Sarah looked at her seriously, before rolling up her sleeves, showing Emma inadvertently recently made and painful looking scars on her forearms, “Order me a second Pad Thai and some dumplings. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

Emma sighed internally. She remembered this side of Sarah all too well, the overachiever, the student who pulled all-nighters even when it wasn’t strictly speaking necessary. She wasn’t looking forward to that kind of approach to magic. Emma still wasn’t even sure if she believed Sarah, but what alternative was there? She did trust Sarah. And if she hadn’t hurt herself like that, who could have hurt her? Conceding that she would at least hear her crazy college friend out, she ordered her Thai fuel for their late night and after a moment’s thought, ordered another order of dumplings for herself. If they were getting into some deep discussions, she wanted the sweet taste of dumplings to tide her over. 

After herding Sarah upstairs to take a much-needed hot shower and to give herself some quiet time to recharge, Emma took stock of the situation. Witches. Witch Hunters. In Boston. It wasn’t as hard to believe as she wanted it to be. Boston had a history of witch-hunters and witches dating back to almost as old as time itself. And Salem. She didn’t even want to get into that can of worms. But if what Sarah said was true, then… had her parents known? Is that why they had told her not to wish for things? Was it a recessive gene? 

The water coming from the upstairs shower stopped and Sarah popped her head out of the bathroom. “Where do you keep your extra pajamas, again?” She called down.

“Usually in the drawer down to the right” Emma answered, deep in thought. It was all so hard to believe and yet not. It was impossible, and yet it made all the pieces of her life fall together. Sarah came down the stairs, wrapped up in an old bathrobe of Emma’s, looking much better for having had a warm shower.

“Do you want some tea?” Emma asked, trying to delay their conversation as much as feasibly possible. Seeming to see right through her façade, Sarah smiled lightly before saying. 

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but it’s better that we start now. Otherwise it will take all night and I still have to explain to Mark why I suddenly vanished the night of our wedding and never came back.” Emma rubbed her eyes tiredly.

“That’s fair. But let’s at least make a cup of coffee for when our Thai food comes. I’m going to need the energy.” Sarah agreed, and the pair of them migrated to the kitchen to put on Emma’s old coffee pot. It rattled ominously and without thinking, Emma wished it would stop – not noticing that a second later, it settled down. 

“Sorry” she apologized, “it’s always doing that just when I think it’s gotten over its dramatic phase.” But it wasn’t the coffee pot that Sarah was looking at. She was staring directly at Emma in fascination. 

“Wow,” she breathed, “You really have no idea, do you? I mean, practically that’s a huge problem but academically, fascinating.” Emma shifted uncomfortably.

“It’s just a coffee pot.” She offered up after a moment, “I don’t really think wishing for something to stop making a rattling sound is a spell or witchy business.”

Sarah sighed, “Oh if only that were so.” She took a breath before biting her lip, “The issue is that everyone’s magic is different, and we all operate it in different ways. I mean, you’ve been performing magic for as long as I’ve known you -“

Emma interrupted, “And you never thought to say anything before?” Sarah shrugged her shoulders awkwardly.

“Magic is private. It’s not my business what you decide to do with your talents. Maybe I thought it was a bit weird that you used it for traffic lights and trivia nights, but you never used it for academics so who was I to say anything.”

Emma pursed her lips. Sarah had a point, and she continued. “I think what makes your magic so… well noteworthy is that it’s big.”

“You can’t be telling me that this is one of those fantasy stories where a character finds out she has magic and then suddenly has huge stores of it.” Emma laughed. 

“Well, no. We don’t really measure magic. That would be like measuring two dick pics. Kind of meaningless.” 

“That is to say all dick pics are meaningless” They both laughed, the lightness cutting through the serious conversation for a moment. 

“Anyways,” Sarah continued, “The point is that there’s no pomp and circumstance with yours. With mine,” she let out a wry smile, “I always have to go through all of these ceremonies and more traditional methods to do something. You could call me old-fashioned; I suppose.”

“So, you’re talking like sage, sacrifices, and hex bags?” Emma asked, half joking, half not.

“Minus the hex bags” Sarah laughed, “I mostly use my magic to bring more positivity into the world and to make more people calm.”

“Makes sense that you’re a psychologist” Emma smiled, pouring the coffee into old chipped mugs.

“It does, doesn’t it.” Sarah looked pleased, “I think witches tend to migrate to career paths that most suit the type of magic they perform. I have another friend who is a witch, and her magic is all about the weather. So, wouldn’t you know it – she’s a meteorologist.” 

Emma sat brooding at the table, stirring sugar into her black tea. “So,” she started, “So how do you know it’s magic? How did you find out?” 

“I was lucky” Sarah sipped her coffee thoughtfully, “My mom was a witch and so was my grandmother. When I was about 10 and started experiencing growing pains, they took me aside and we talked about magic. They showed me how magic worked for them and asked me questions about if I had ever felt a certain way or had things happen for me out of the blue. But I know that some witches don’t have that luxury,” she looked apologetically at Emma, “You lot just have to make your own way in the world.”

“What about… what about a witch government?” Emma thought out loud, “Surely there is somewhere there who wants to make sure that no one knows about witches. There has to be some sort of system that makes sure people like me don’t make accidental big mistakes on a magical scale.”

“There is of a sort.” Sarah offered cautiously, “There are regional covens that operate as sort of community councils. You don’t have to go, but by living in a place with a coven, you have to de-facto acknowledge that you’re agreeing to be bound by their rules. Usually someone will come by and introduce themselves, give you the solstice party locations, the usual.” 

“The usual?” Emma looked stunned, “But no one has ever talked to me about it. And if my magic is as big as you said, they would have wanted to, right?” 

Sarah looked a bit guilty, her eyes shifting back and forth. “I mean, I befriended you at college, didn’t I?” 

“But you’re not… a part of the coven that just messed you up right?” Her eyes wide, Emma considered Sarah for the second time. “That would make no sense at all.” 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” Emma said nothing, waiting for Sarah to continue with one eyebrow raised, “Okay, okay” She continued hastily, “I did have someone from the coven meet with me while we were at school and she asked if you knew about the local coven. And at the time, we had just become friends, I didn’t know your opinions of magic and you were so private back then. I was just an awkward college student who didn’t want to deal with it. So I told her that you were aware but practiced a very, erm, intimate kind of magic.” 

Sarah blushed. Emma just stared. “Like sex magic?” 

“Yes” Sarah answered, looking away, “There is such a thing and usually those who practice it like to do so privately. It’s kind of looked down upon.” 

“Okay” Emma said thoughtfully, “So they knew I was there but you, in a way, covered for me”

“Yes” Sarah said, “If I had known they would go to all of this trouble, I would have suggested you talk to them.”

“With all my knowledge of magic” Emma answered drily. Sarah just nodded, but before they could continue their conversation, the door rang.


	3. Chapter 3

Both girls were on guard for a moment before Emma realized that it was the Pad Thai. They shot relieved looks at one another while Emma went to get her wallet. Two orders of dumplings and Pad Thai later and Sarah seemed much more relaxed shooting Emma a grateful smile.

“Hey,” she started, “I’m sorry for all of this. I know you didn’t ask for this and I certainly didn’t want to be the person that had to break the news to you.” 

Emma shrugged, “It’s not your fault. I mean, I would blame my parents. They always knew something was wrong, er- different, with me and they just told me to batten down the hatches, so to speak.” Sarah frowned.

“That’s really immature. If they had any magic in their family at all, they would know how dangerous that is.” 

“Dangerous?” Emma questioned, popping a dumpling in her mouth, “How so?”

Sarah thought for a moment before explaining. “Imagine that there is a faucet in your house that you use regularly. You keep turning it on and off as you need water to take bathes, showers and to waste dishes. This is all pretty standard. But then imagine that a really hard winter comes and it’s so cold that the all the faucets in your house ice over and no more water can come through. All of that pressure builds up behind the ice and when spring eventually comes and the ice melts, the water can be really explosive and dangerous.” 

Emma looked troubled, “Does my magic feel like that to you? Pent up?” Sarah let out a huge bout of laughter.

“God no. Em, you practically drip magic. You use it to stop the coffee maker from rattling, you use it so you always get walking signs when you walk around the city. You are the last person who has pent up magic.”

“Oh” Emma smiled, “Well that’s a relief. Then… what’s the problem? Why is the local coven pissed?” 

Sarah ran a hand through her hair, “It’s not so much that they’re pissed, it’s more like they’re furious and they might be coming to give you talking to at some point soon.” A sheepish smile crossed her face, “Covens like to pretend that magic always works better together and I’m not saying that it doesn’t, but you shouldn’t be forced to join a group just because you all share one characteristic.”

“Yeah. Um cult much?” They both laughed.

“Exactly” Sarah continued, “And when they get wind of the fact that witches live in their territories, powerful witches mind you, they get offended that they haven’t offered their power up to serve the Goddess or whatever crap they’re spouting these days.”

Emma stirred her coffee thoughtfully, thinking about witches and covens. What Sarah said made sense. It was a psychological trend through time. People liked to form into groups, and when they found out that some people didn’t want to join, they got angry. Emma had always been a loner, only gathering up one or two friends at a time, and she absolutely hated Groupthink. 

“So… they want me to join their clique?” She asked

“That’s the long and short of it.” Sarah said, “They’re all about power and you, Em, have got a lot of it.”

“Well,” Emma again thought long and hard before saying “What would you recommend? I mean you know my feelings about groups and cliques in general – “ Sarah rolled her eyes, “- But is it worth joining to avoid the upset? You know about this world more than I do.”

Sarah dismissed her concerns with a wave, “Absolutely not. No one should be forced into joining a coven. If you want to, that’s another story but I know you, and you would not like some of the nonsense they talk about.”

“Don’t tell me – they’re Trump supporters”

“Thank the heavens no.” Sarah laughed, and she and Emma tried to picture a coven of witches all wearing those disturbing MAGA hats. 

“Okay” Emma tried to get them back on track. “So, coven problem is not really a problem, just kind of an annoyance that I’m now going to have to explain myself to and deal with. But the witch hunters? You mentioned blood and, in my experience, mentioning blood is never a good thing.” 

Sarah sobered up quickly, banishing the thought of Trump-supporting witches from her mind. “Witch hunters are kind of a problem. They are, as their name suggests, in the business of hunting witches. Think of them like your local too aggressive militia. They have lots of meetings but usually us witches are pretty good at blending in, so we escape notice. And the whole law in the United States at least doesn’t smile upon those who kill random people and then accuse them of being witches”

And then Emma understood why the coven was so angry at her. She had not only rejected their offer of being within their team, but she had exposed them and herself to witch hunters. “Alright, so essentially not only do we need to hide from them, I’ve now put a blaring target on Boston because of my enormous spell the other day.” 

Sarah looked uncomfortable. “You didn’t mean to but yes. They have some way of tracking magic usage, I’m not sure what it is. I mean, to be honest, I only know what my mom told me.”

“Which is what?” Emma asked.

“They’re dangerous. Think loose cannons who want to shoot and anything and everything that looks the slightest bit witchy.”

“So how” Emma wondered out loud, “How do they handle Harry Potter, Salem and the whole craze into Wicca right now? Surely that must be really irritating.”

“Actually” Sarah said, “It’s really helpful for us at least. It means we can blend in and if caught, pretend that we aren’t really witches. And like I said, they’re kind of fanatical but they’re smart enough not to kill you in plain sight.”

“Well that’s reassuring” Emma said, “And do we think that they’re going to come after me now?”

Sarah looked thoughtful. “To be honest” she said, “I’m really not sure. So much of what I know of them is mythical in nature. I don’t know how exact they can be with their tracking techniques. Magic as a philosophical and academic subject is really understudied. It’s something that I wish I could look into.”

“Focus, Sarah” Emma snapped her fingers in her face but with a smile on her face, “Remember, witch hunters want to kill me. Let’s think about that.”

Sarah leaned back in her chair, sipping gently at the now cold coffee. “I think you have some options ahead of you. Number one, you could choose to ignore all of this and stop using magic. I know –. “ 

She held up her hands at Emma’s open mouth. “I know that’s not really an option, but we need to consider it. If this witch hunter or witch hunters are serious, we need to be conscious of that. Number two, you could go to the local coven or rather let them come to you. They might know something about witch hunters, at least more than I do and could help you. The downside of that is obviously that they have other motives.”

Emma snorted, “Obviously.”

“And,” Sarah continued, ignoring Emma’s outburst, “Number three, we could work together to figure out how to get you out of this mess. I don’t know what that would involve, but we could maybe look into the literature of witch hunters, figure out someone with magic like you and help you deal with your witchy business.”

Emma sat there for a moment considering all of the options. In her mind, the first two were already out. Much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was very dependent on using her wishing magic. At this point in her life, it was second nature. She also absolutely despised cults and cliques of any kind. If the coven was so invested in power that they simply sought out people based on their power strengths, it wasn’t anything she wanted to be a part of.

She trusted Sarah… to a point. She had just learned that Sarah, as well as herself, were both witches. How much could you really trust someone if, for years, they had been friends if it had never come up – not once? Emma was also slightly suspicious of Sarah’s motives. Wasn’t she concerned about her husband and her life? She had dropped everything to come and warn Emma. Okay, she amended that thought. Witches had tortured her and then she had come to seek Emma out. But… couldn’t she just ask? 

“So, why do you want to help?” she asked slowly. “We’re essentially acquaintances, Sarah. I mean don’t get me wrong, I value our friendship and you talking to me about all of this. But what possible reason do you have to care about me this much? You just got married!” 

Sarah looked slightly offended and then thoughtful. “You have a right to ask that. It’s not as though we’ve always been the best of friends. I suppose the short answer is that I’m interested. Magic isn’t a huge part of my life. I use it in my work from time to time but it feels like a dormant force that just wants to be used and I’m inclined to finally give it some leeway. Life has been pretty boring for me lately. I go to work, I go home. Okay, fair I just got married but eh – I’ve been with him for eight years. He and I will both survive me taking on a hobby. And it would be a nice change of pace to become a character in Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code, you know?”


	4. Chapter 4

When Emma awoke the next morning, it felt as though all of last night had been a dream. She had recollections of pulling all-nights with Sarah in college. But staying up all night as a young adult who didn’t have the same ability to bounce back was another thing entirely. As she stumbled into her kitchen to make coffee, the scent of last night’s burnt coffee still lingered as she dumped the old coffee grounds. It almost felt like a normal morning, she mused as the sound of her rattling coffee maker filled the room. This time, however, she did not wish for it to be quiet. They had discussed last night the idea that Emma would be more cautious with her magic.

But even so, it was difficult to turn off something that felt so natural. With every part of her morning routine, whether it be frying eggs without oil splashing in her face or wishing that Jingles would appear just when she wished he would, was overlain and mixed up with her own unique kind of magic. But she pressed on. Jingles did not appear immediately when she put out his food, but she did hear him meowing as he came down the stairs. Her eggs were a bit runnier than usual, but no oil splashed on her.

Emma precariously balanced her coffee in one hand, her eggs in another as she wandered towards her office. Her job as a UI designer did provide her with one amazing characteristic, namely that she didn’t have to go into the office if she didn’t want to. So last night, while she was in her magic frenzy with Sarah, she had written a last-minute text at 2 or 3am claiming that she was the victim of some horrible food poisoning and that she needed the morning to recover.

No one wanted to see someone who had been vomiting all night and Emma was fairly certain that this excuse would easily be agreed to. She did all of her normally, so one day off would not kill them. Just as she thought it, an email popped up on her desktop from her boss agreeing that she could work from home today, or better yet take the day off. Right on schedule, she thought to herself, placing the coffee and breakfast down. 

It could never be said that she did not love her work. The more she thought about it, the more she saw correlations between her own unique brand of magic and the way she designed. Her job was to make websites aesthetically pleasing for the user, so she spent most of her days thinking about what other people wished for and making a visual representation of it. 

Looking at her to-do list, there wasn’t anything immediately pressing so she checked through her e-mail before getting ready to head out. She and Sarah had agreed to spend a few evenings a week working on finding someone with a similar magical talent and looking through magical literature. Emma didn’t know where on earth Sarah expected to find magical literature. She was a huge abuser of the public library and she had yet to see anything remotely similar to what Sarah was describing.

But when she had asked Sarah this, she winked. “You just have to know where to look.” That was really very irritating of her, Emma had thought. So while the two of them were meeting this evening, she thought she would go a bit early and see if she could find what Sarah had talked about. 

By the time she reached the public library, it was early afternoon. The tourists who usually flocked to the library’s main entrance and reading room were at their expensive lunches around the city. Thankfully, this meant the actual users of the library were able to make use of it. She smiled at the guard who knew her quite well and received a wave in return. When Emma was not designing applications and websites, she often found herself here. There was something unbelievably magical about a library and she always felt safe here.

Over the next few hours, she looked around the main reading room and then alternated to some of the lesser used rooms. But frustratingly, she couldn’t find anything. There were books on the Wicca religion, the history of the Salem witch trials, but nothing on the actual practice of magic itself. Glumly sitting in the stairwell stirring a much-needed cup of coffee, Emma thought that she probably should have expected this. She was so lost in her thoughts that she missed the man who stopped in front of her.

“Sorry ma’am” He said quietly, “Do you need help finding something?” 

Emma looked up in surprise. “No, no” she said hastily, that’s completely fine. I’m just having trouble locating a book.”

The man smiled wryly, “Don’t we all know the feeling. Well, if you need any help – I’m just starting here. My name is Harry, Harry Bernard.” 

Emma took his name, ignoring the small spark that passed from his fingertips to hers, “Well Harry Bernard, it is nice to meet you. My name is Emma Hornberger and I could really use your help. I’m looking for books…” Here Emma paused, she didn’t want to suddenly alert the normal world to the existence of the magical one. She didn’t really know how such things and so, thought to herself, better safe than sorry. “I’m looking for books on the witch trials in Salem, but more personal accounts rather than purely narrative, you know?” 

That seemed difficult enough that a seasoned library user such as herself might have trouble locating it. Emma dryly thought to herself that even that request, she could fulfill herself. It wasn’t hard to locate in biographies or autobiographies the particular sections on Salem. But it was a difficult enough request that someone might be confused about where to be looking. Harry, however, seemed perfectly happy to fulfill her request though.

“Come on then” He said cheerfully, “We’ll go check out the autobiography section. I think you might have been looking in history rather than the autobiographical section, am I right?” 

Emma laughed to herself, trying to look suitably serious. “Yes, that’s exactly it!” The two of them walked over to the section, idly chatting. That was how Emma learned that Harry was really no so different from herself. He was also an only child who moved to Boston to make it ‘in the big city.’ They both lived alone with cats who acted out more often than they should. Emma was not a romantic, but she did often wonder why she hadn’t found someone, well practically ever. 

It wasn’t as though she didn’t look for love, but it wasn’t on her to-do list. She had Tinder like most other women her age, but nothing serious ever came of it. She didn’t count the repeated Netflix and chill sessions that repeatedly ended in disappointment.

As she was deep in thought about her romantic life staring at the autobiographies of witches in Salem, she was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. Sarah was smiling at her.

“Wotcher, Emma.”

“Are we in a Harry Potter novel, Sarah? Please.” Sarah smiled.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. There’s something so endearing about entering a conversation on Wotcher. I wonder if it’s some British nuance that we’re missing entirely. You know as the uncultured American swine that we truly are.” Emma rolled her eyes, still in thought about Harry. 

“So, are you ready to see some magical books or what?” Sarah gestured to the bookshelf on Salem, “You are certainly barking up the wrong tree but I’m sure you know that.” Emma let out a little laugh.

“I’ve been looking all afternoon, but I couldn’t find them!” Sarah gave a secretive grin.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” 

Sarah led her into a small side room, where the children’s literature was normally kept. Emma wasn’t usually in this room, so she took time to look around. The walls had beautiful murals of them made of old construction paper, googly eyes and glitter. Even though the room was markedly old, the books still had that some special kind of magic that books have for children. She remembered the first book she read that reminded her that she could fly, the first book that made her believe that dragons and unicorns were real. 

Sarah continued walking to a small corner of the room, where there some thoughtful librarian had put together a giving tree like structure, made of sticky notes, green marker scribbles and a cozy bean bag chair. 

“Come sit.” She called to Emma, “It’ll make more sense if you do it first.” Confused, Emma walked over, sitting down in the chair as Sarah indicated. 

“I don’t know what you think this could possibly do…” But there her voice trailed off. Instead of looking at the underutilized room of children’s books, now she was looking at an enormous hall with stunning stained-glass windows, chock full of books, tables and other witches who paid her no mind as she stood up shakily. A moment later, Sarah was standing beside her looking inordinately pleased.

“I hope you realize.” Emma said with no humor in her voice, “You have destroyed any and all chance that I will leave here unless under duress.”


	5. Chapter 5

The library looked like something out of a fairytale, with tall imposing bookshelves lining the walls and a warm inviting light entering through the ancient stained-glass windows. It inexplicably reminded Emma of the actual main reading room of the Boston Public Library, but more magical in nature. She couldn’t help her eyes darting every which way, trying to take it all in. Sarah just stood next to her, as she practically gaped at all of the witches and wizards. Of course, she and Sarah had been speaking about witches and covens so it should have occurred to Emma that this was not just a one gendered ability. But there was something amazing about seeing the immense diversity of people who could practice magic just like her. 

She took a step forward before hesitating. “Sarah,” she asked, “Are all of these people part of the Boston coven? As a matter of what, are we even still in Boston? Did you take me through some sort of time warp?” 

Sarah laughed. “No, no. Em, this is still Boston, but we’re privileged to have one of the best magical libraries worldwide. A lot of people come here to study and learn more about magic. I would say ninety percent of these people aren’t part of the coven. But to answer your question about the time warp…” She looked thoughtful for a moment, “It’s not a time warp per say, but think of it as another layer of the Boston Library. There’s the normal library that exists for everyone and then there is this library that exists for witches and wizards.”

“Can anyone get in?” Emma asked. She wanted dearly to stop asking Sarah millions of questions, but she couldn’t help herself. 

“You can’t just sit anywhere.” Sarah smiled knowingly, “Usually most large city libraries have one place where you can enter your magical branch and then they have options to travel from that library to this one or another international one.” Emma’s mind began to wonder. While Sarah had said there was no time warp per say, she hadn’t mentioned anything about an interdimensional doorway and that was exactly what it sounded like.

After a beat of silence, Emma asked “So you’re telling me that every library had a place that all witches and wizards know they can travel across wide geographical expanses and there isn’t a government or system of bureaucracy in place? What about visas? Because surely, and I’m just making a guess, the library in Paris must be incredible. And if I could just travel there without passing through the EU customs desk, that would be a huge breach of international law.”

Sarah looked chagrined. “Look Emma, I don’t know everything there is to know about magical law and government. You’d have to ask my mom or grandmother. They know much more than I do. I only know so much about this kind of stuff.”

Emma laughed. “I don’t mean to be cruel to you Sarah. I just mean, this is all so new to me. I can’t help but be endlessly fascinated by everything.” Sarah inclined her head. 

The two wandered forward into the main hall, Emma doing her best not to look intently at everyone around her. Witches were people but she wanted to see examples of different forms of magic. But at first glance, she didn’t see anything. Sarah was muttering under her breath about finding the right kinds of books, but Emma couldn’t care less. All she wanted was to live in this moment forever, feel that incredible sense of wonder that she remembered feeling all the time when she was a child. 

After a moment, Emma realized that Sarah had stopped them at a sort of lectern. Peering around, she cocked an eyebrow at Sarah. 

“Just wait a moment” Sarah hissed before a woman came over and smiled kindly at them. She looked like the epitome of a magical librarian. Much to Emma’s disappointment, she was not wearing robes or anything particularly hippy in nature. She was wearing comfortable jeans and a sweater that you would see any normal woman wearing on the street, and her bright green eyes were hidden by a thick set of glasses. Despite her common appearance, however, she exuded warmth and welcoming as she approached them. 

“Sarah, my dear. How are you? Congratulations on your marriage! You haven’t been here in years! And who is it you’ve brought with you then? I don’t think I’ve had the chance of meeting her before.” The woman turned her attention to Emma and murmured something under her breath before smiling. 

“Blessed be. My name is Theresa, and I’m one of the librarians. You look a bit shell-shocked. I presume you’re new?” 

Emma stuttered, not used to feeling so on the spot and out of her depth. “Um, yes. Well I mean that’s to say I’ve never been here before.”

Luckily at that point, Sarah chose to take the lead. “Theresa,” she said warmly, “Blessed be. I’m doing well thank you. I’m here taking my friend Emma around for the first time.” She shrugged a casual arm around Emma’s shoulders. “She’s just found out about magic and I thought we should start with learning about some of the basics of magic.” 

Theresa smiled. “Ah that explains a lot. Emma, first of all, welcome. Normally in witch circles, we greet each other with Blessed Be. Do you know where that comes from?” 

Emma shook her head shyly. 

Theresa continued. “The phrase comes from an old Gardnerian Wiccan initiation ceremony, where a high priestess or priest chants:

Blessed be thy feet, which have brought thee in these ways,  
Blessed be thy knees, that shall kneel at the sacred altar,  
Blessed be thy womb, without which we would not be,  
Blessed be thy breasts, formed in beauty,  
Blessed be thy lips, that shall utter the Sacred Names of the gods.

Now often times in our witch tradition, we don’t follow all of the rites of the prosaic Wiccan population but in the case of Blessed Be, we do.” 

Emma opened her mouth before closing it again in thought. “Do you call the normal population prosaics? Before you answer, know that I have so many questions for you. This is all so new to me and I want to know everything, so I don’t muck anything up.” 

Theresa laughed. “You won’t, as you say muck anything up. And don’t worry about asking so many questions. I’m a librarian! That’s what I’m here for. I took a vow long time ago to serve this library for the remainder of my days in the prosaic world. To answer your question. Yes. We refer to people without magical abilities as the prosaics.” 

Emma rocked back on her heels before smiling, “Isn’t that a bit reminiscent of other fantasy novels and series?” 

“Are you sure it isn’t fantasy novels and series who have taken their cues from us?” Theresa countered swiftly. 

“Fair point.” Emma conceded. 

“To get to the point,” Sarah interrupted. “I’m sure we could talk about the basics of witch life for hours, but Theresa, the reason I wanted to talk to you was so that Emma could understand more about magic academically, what it means and how it integrates in our world.” Emma shot Sarah a look. She wanted to know as much as she could, who cared about the actual reason for their trip there.

Theresa smiled wryly, “Always straight to the point, Sarah. Of course. Magic.” Her tone took on a more lecture like quality. “Magic has been around since the dawn of time. There has never been a world without it. You can read about witches and magic in old texts that discuss us being active in the early 1100s and often before then. However, in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, it began to be dangerous to be a witch. We’re in Boston so I wouldn’t be surprised if you were well versed in the Salem Witch Trials, but that was not – in fact – the beginning of it all. But without boring you with horrible tales, the publication of Malleus Maleficarum was the beginning of the end for open witchcraft. The book acted as propaganda that any and all witch work was only possible by working with the devil. Hence, then came the peak of the witch trials from 1560-1650. Since then, we have retreated in the shadows. But of course, witches are still active in everyday life. There are many famous actors and politicians who have been witches.”

“That’s all well and fine.” Emma interrupted her. “But where does magic come into academia? How do you study it?” 

Theresa gave her a long-suffering look. “If you would let me finish.” She paused for a moment, clearly waiting for Emma to interrupt her again. “Magic in academia exists, similarly to this library, on two planes. It exists in the prosaic world as historic texts that historians parse to learn more about, as they say, the way science was interpreted as magic in the old days. It also exists in places like this where we as witches can learn about our forebearers and how different magic has developed. Because, yes, magic does change and develop. While in the olden days, magic was much more traditional – now that is no longer the case. We are finding more and more these days that magic is becoming more chaotic and manifesting in different ways. This makes magic harder to detect. So, we study mostly by observing and testing magic in special places like this one where we can be assured, we are safe.” 

Emma waited a moment before posing another question. “Are there places where you can study magic with teachers?”

“Are you asking if there is a Hogwarts?” 

“Well.” Emma’s cheeks flushed. “Well yes. Surely there must be some sort of magical government or system to keep witches in check.”

Theresa smiled. “In theory yes, we have regional covens as I’m sure Sarah has told you. We have the Boston coven and other cities and towns have their own community circles where they honor the Goddess together and there is a council of witches who look over the entire United States. There is, I also believe, international councils that oversee countries and regions, but they are not called upon unless there is a great need for their aid.”

“I’m gathering” Emma hazarded, “That these kinds of councils formed when ruling by princes and federalism was much more at arm’s length than it is today with our own prosaic governments.” 

“You would be right.” Theresa agreed. She looked at her watch. “I’m sorry ladies, I must be going soon. If I want to get back in time for lunch, I need to leave now.”

“Now?” Emma exclaimed, “But it’s 5 o’clock in the evening.”

Theresa laughed. “You have a lot to learn Emma, I am not from Boston so opening the doorway I need to get home to San Francisco will take some time and I am still the mother of two young children who do not understand the nature of magical travel just yet. Blessed Be” 

Struck dumb, Emma could only nod as they bade farewell to Theresa and she wandered away. “I think I’m still in shock.” She admitted to Sarah, “It’s so weird to meet other witches who I know are magical but who just seem completely and utterly normal.” 

Sarah smiled. “I know what you mean. I remember being young and having that same feeling every time I came here. Like I was part of this magical world and no one else knew.” They smiled at one another as Sarah’s phone buzzed.

“Ah that’ll be Mark.” She laughed. “He can’t seem to understand why I need to show this all to you.”

“Wait” Emma almost shouted. “Is Mark a witch?” 

Sarah started laughing. “Good god no. Mark is the furthest thing from a witch but of course he knows. I couldn’t keep it from him. He understands I can do certain things and I think he choose to believe me even though he’s never expressed an interest in wanting to see it. But he does agree that you need to be taught.” 

Emma shrugged off the feeling that she was just a novice as they headed out of the library. She sat again in that comfortable chair and found herself in the children’s books section of the prosaic Boston Library. She couldn’t help feeling that everything was lacking sparkle and a certain something. After checking her phone and looking pained, Sarah explained that she had to run home – something about a broken toilet and Mark being completely and utterly useful when it came to these things. 

Despite it being late, Emma couldn’t bring herself to leave the library just yet. She sat down with an old fantasy book that she had read often as a child, allowing herself to escape in the pages. Having seen the actual magical world, the pages of the book seemed to not capture the same kind of wonder she had felt today. But before she could get into the plot, someone cleared their throat near her. Looking up, she was surprised to see Harry, the librarian who had helped her from earlier.

“Emma – was it? We’re closing up soon. I’m going to have to ask you to go.” He looked apologetic. 

She sprang to her feet. “Ah sorry. Of course! I didn’t mean to stay so late; I just got a bit lost in the book.” He smiled gently.

“It’s no problem. Come on, I’ll walk you out. I was just heading out myself.”

As they walked to the door together, Emma couldn’t help feeling like she should do something spontaneous. There was something about discovering that you were a magical being that gave you an otherworldly sense of confidence.

She cleared her throat, hoping that it wasn’t too abrupt. “Hey Harry – do you want to grab dinner? I know a great burrito place just around the corner. You don’t have to say yes, but I figured you were new in town and probably don’t have anyone to show you around yet”

Harry did look surprised for a moment, but his face broke out in a shy smile. “I’d love to.” He confessed. Internally celebrating her newfound victory, Sarah couldn’t help but smiling back.


	6. Chapter 6

The fact that Emma had decided to pursue something beyond the bounds of platonic friendship with Harry was, of course, perfectly timed. Balancing her newfound learning of magic, her newly rekindled friendship with Sarah, restricting her own usage of magic and a new love interest was a lot to keep on her plate. As a matter of fact, Sarah had cautioned her against it, stating that she didn’t know anything about Harry. 

“He could be a witch hunter.” She posited one Saturday afternoon as they watched yet another rerun of Gilmore Girls. “You don’t know somebody until you it’s too late.” 

Emma laughed. “There’s no way that calm and collected Harry is a witch hunter. He’s the furthest from it. I’ve never met anyone more peaceful and addicted to books. He’s a historian, Sarah. Calm down.” 

Sarah met her eyes seriously. “Ignore Rory and Lorelei for a moment, Em. You have to be careful now. We know, or at the very least we suspect that there are now witch hunters circling the city trying to find us. I’ve been cutting down on my magic and I know you have been too. Don’t just blab everything to Harry.”

Emma waved her away. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” Privately, she agreed. Her nonchalance aside, she couldn’t imagine telling anyone about magic, let alone that she could use it. She would sound like a complete and utter nutjob. That aside, she really didn’t want to get burned at the stake. She had already recently called her parents and discussed this whole subject with them, and the experience alone was enough to persuade her that she didn’t want to do it again anytime soon.

It had been an early morning Sunday, when she knew that her parents would be enjoying their slow breakfast alongside one another. She could picture it now. Her mother would be sipping a cup of strong coffee while doing the New York Times crossword while her father would be drinking his green tea and reading his latest presidential biography. They really were the most academic couple. Both were professors at the local university and while one taught Math, the other taught Literature. It was a wonder the two had ever found one another. So when Emma called on that early Sunday morning, she knew she had to handle the situation cautiously.

If she came right out and demanded to know why they hadn’t told her about magic’s existence, let alone the fact that she had this ability – they would advise her to talk to a therapist and that would be the end of the discussion. Instead, she thought, she would probe them about her childhood. That way they could talk about the subject in a secondhand manner. 

“Good morning Emma” Her mother’s voice sounded as it always did, calm and attentive. She could imagine the woman’s light and soft blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, her bright blue eyes crinkling as she spoke.

“Morning mom.” She answered. “I was just calling to say hi. Actually.” She paused. “I wanted to talk to you a bit about my childhood. I was having coffee with my friend Sarah from school, I don’t know if you remember her, but we were discussing how we both had weird behaviors as a child.” She forced herself to laugh. “I have such a horrid memory, but I thought I remembered you telling me I was a bit off when I was a kid.”

Her mother was silent for a moment before she answered. “Oh gosh, that was years ago, honey. But you’re right, you were very odd.” Her mother paused again, which gave Emma the knowledge that she had, in fact, altered her mother that something was wrong. She never paused. “You had it in your head that if you just wished for something to come true, it would. And serendipitously, it almost always did. You were very lucky.”

Emma laughed. “Funny, hey. Sarah did that as well. We were laughing about it.” 

“Sarah as well?” Her mother’s voice had sharpened. “How funny. Listen Emma, I have to go actually. Your father and I have tickets to a hayride this morning with some new students at school. But the next time you’re up in Vermont, let us know. It’s been too long.” 

They exchanged their goodbyes and Emma hung up the phone. There was something too fishy about that phone conversation. She wanted to ignore it but there was nothing really to say. Perhaps her mother felt better that she had indicated Sarah also was a bit precocious as a child. But in all honesty, her mother’s tone sounded too aggressive for that. Putting the phone down, Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something crucial. 

Emma hadn’t told Sarah of that conversation and even as they sat watching their favorite television show together, she wondered whether she should. It didn’t seem particularly important, but Sarah was her witch friend and likely knew more about this than she would. Just as she opened her mouth to tell her, she heard a knock at the door.

“Did you order more food?” Sarah asked, “We already have our take-out for the night.”

“I know, I know.” Emma said, stretching and getting to the door. “I don’t know who it could be.” 

As she opened the door, however, she got the feeling that she perhaps should not have been so relaxed in her approach. Three women stood on her porch looking altogether too friendly for their own good.

“Emma.” One of them smiled and held her hand out. “Blessed Be. How lovely to finally meet you. My name is Renee. May we come in?” 

Emma froze for a moment, not sure what to do. Was there some kind of tradition where you had to let witches into your house like vampires? Could she say no and they would go away. Before she was frozen for too long, however, Sarah bounded up behind her. The casual grin on her face dropped away as she observed the three women. 

“Renee. Carol. Evelyn.” She said flatly before sharing a look with Emma, “You probably shouldn’t stay out on the porch for too long.” Emma regained her presence in that moment, before nodding and standing to the side to let them into her house. They shared a look for a moment as Emma closed the door – the local coven had finally come to call. 

She hurried quickly to clean off some of the clothing off of her living room chairs. 

“Sorry about that.” She murmured, “Take a seat. Do you want anything to drink?” 

“No thank you.” Renee answered, “We just wanted to have a quick chat.” Silence reigned before she continued. “I’m not sure how much Sarah has told you about us but I’m the High Priestess of the local Boston coven. Carol and Evelyn are my second in commands. We’ve heard so much about you, but we wanted to meet you in person. You haven’t attended any of the local chapter meetings, so we hadn’t a chance to get a sense of your character.”

“Well...” Emma cleared her throat. “Here I am. Sorry I haven’t been by the meetings. I’m very new to all of this so I’m taking my time getting used to everything.”

“New to this?” Carol questioned. “We were under the impression that you chose not to take part in the coven.” Emma swallowed.

“Well, new in the sense that I’m rediscovering it after deciding not to take part.” She attempted a smile. “I’m taking a lot of time in the library and then once I feel better, I’ll consider attending.”

Sarah cut in, much to Emma’s pleasure. “She’s really not interested, High Priestess. I’ve talked to her about it and both of us don’t really like getting involved on a community level.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. So, you both don’t want to know your roots and your heritage. How… heretic.”

“Excuse me?” Emma fired back. “How is not wanting to be involved in a local club being heretic?”

“Now ladies.” Renee cut in. “Let’s not get catty. We merely came to introduce ourselves since we didn’t get the chance when you moved here years earlier and to ask why you would make such a splash a few months ago. Really, on the anniversary of that horrible day. It was done in very bad taste.”

Emma moved to explain before she saw Sarah gave her a small shake of the head no. Taking a deep breath, she explained “I didn’t mean it like that. It was just an accident” she finished lamely.

Renee smiled again. “Let’s let accidents be accidents then. But just so it doesn’t happen again, let me tell you what truce you may have inadvertently ended. One hundred years ago, the witch hunters and witches in this community were at war. While our soldiers were off fighting in World War 1, hunters came to slaughter us, claiming that we were Germans and foreigners polluting America’s very soul. On one night such night full of blood, the hunters had broken into our base and were attacking every man, woman and child they could find. It just so happened that a prosaic child was wandering the streets that night. In a mad rush, they accidentally killed him, not realizing that the child was actually one of their own. Because of that, they laid down their arms and we retreated into mystic and lore rather than fight in the open. We have been at peace for past hundred years and I don’t want some childish young witch to end that. Have I made myself clear?” 

Again, the silence was met with a nod from Emma and Sarah. Emma felt a bit abashed, as though she was a young child at school. Renee rose alongside Evelyn and Carol. “I don’t think I need to tell you to keep that magic under control. The next time, this meeting might not be so cordial.”

The three swept out of the house, leaving Emma and Sarah to stare at one another, wondering what mess they had just gotten themselves into.


	7. Chapter 7

Over the next few days, Emma tried to keep busy. Much as she didn’t want to admit it, the meeting had rattled her. She wasn’t used to strange witches coming in the middle of the night into her apartment. She wasn’t used to this entire new world that she somehow seemed dead set upon entering. Not for the first time, she wondered whether it wasn’t all a mistake. Maybe she shouldn’t be entering this world at all. It was tempting to ignore. But then again, her internal moral compass said, you can’t really ignore it, can you? It now took so much effort to simply not act upon her own impulses to practice daily. Part, if not the entire, reason she was succeeding was because she was waiting to find someone. Rather, she was hoping to find someone to show her how it all worked. Her magic was so foreign to someone even like Sarah that she didn’t know its limits, how it worked or if it could kill her. She remembered all too clearly the serious conversation she had had with Sarah about it. 

“But I don’t understand.” She had asked her, brushing a flick of hair out of her face, “Why can’t I just go along as I have been? What’s wrong with practicing a little magic?” 

Sarah let out a deep sigh. “It’s not that you shouldn’t be practicing magic, Em. It’s that we don’t know what your limits are. You could easily wish for something that was too much and burn out. We don’t know anything about your magic at all. Imagine if you decided you wanted to wish for the end of the world. I know you wouldn’t, but something similar that your own magic couldn’t perform by itself. If you did that, your magic wouldn’t be enough to sustain you, so instead it would burn you out and take your life along with it.”

“Oh” Emma looked uncomfortable. “How did you learn about that anyways? Surely we all have different levels and abilities.” 

“There is a battery of tests.” Sarah looked thoughtful. “I’m not entirely sure how it works, but I’ll reach out to my mom – she administered it for me and now I know the warning signs, like shortness of breath and dizzy spells.”

Sarah had reached out to her mom, but she was taking some time to answer them. Thinking back to that conversation, Emma wondered gloomily if Sarah’s mom just didn’t want to talk to her. She was quickly learning that a witch without a steady handle on her powers was more a liability than something to be excited about. She had tried to go back to talk to Theresa as well, but she had been mysteriously busy or never around. When she had asked another librarian – the woman had promised to look out for her. 

That was how, like most evenings, Emma found herself sitting on the stairs of the Boston Public prosaic Library. She knew she shouldn’t be getting invested in any kind of relationship with Harry, but she couldn’t help herself. There was something inviting about having something so normal in her life that wasn’t mangled by the confusion of magic and witchcraft. Just then, Harry appeared at the front, shooting her a smile.

While they hadn’t defined their relationship, it was quickly proceeding past the bounds of platonic friendship. Emma found that when she wasn’t spending evenings with Sarah, she was taking Harry to new places around Boston. He was endearingly adorable and found everything exciting and fun to see. She couldn’t help smiling alongside him when they went to the North End, the Financial District and even to Salem on a day trip during the weekend. 

She kept Sarah’s advice under advisement in that she didn’t talk to him at all about magic and her ability to wish for things. That, in her opinion, would have been silly. The whole point of their relationship was that it was normal. They went for dinner together, visited museums and Emma found that even the most boring of things that she had previously found horrific, now was more interesting than ever.

Harry approached her, giving her a light peck on the lips as he said hello. His hair looked ruffled today, as though he had been running very quickly. “Hello Emma, so where are we going tonight?” 

She smiled, “I was thinking we could try out a local farm to table restaurant, it’s only a 25- or 30-minute walk and it’s so nice out.” Harry snorted.

“It’s absolutely freezing outside. Is your skin made of something stronger than wool?”

Emma laughed. “No, but you get used to the cold when you live here for a while. You, coming from Seattle, I would have expected you to know that.”

Harry settled in beside her as Emma slipped her arm into his and they began to walk. “Well yes, but there’s something so chill about the air here. It’s as though it immediately gets into your bones. We have the rain in Seattle but it’s nothing like here.”

They continued their light conversation about the weather and their respective homes as they walked towards dinner. It was, Emma reflected, the kind of activity she would never have expected herself to partake in a few months ago. She, on Tinder, Hinge and all of the various dating platforms, could never bring herself to handle small talk. Yet here she was actually enjoying that with Harry, but she still wanted to know. 

“Harry” she asked abruptly, “What is your plan?”

“My plan?” He asked bemusedly. 

“Yes” She suddenly wanted to know what kind of future the two of them had. “What do you want out of life?”

He blushed. “I want a family, a job that I love and a place that I find comforting to live. I know it might sound boring but –“ 

Emma kissed him before he could finish. It was so achingly normal that she wanted to cry. Despite all of her talk that she wanted an adventure and something mysterious to happen to her, it was these small things that seemed more attainable and comforting. 

“Any reason for that question?” He asked after a moment.

She paused, thinking. “I… it’s difficult to explain but I feel like I’m really reevaluating what I want out of life right now. I thought I knew what I wanted for a really long time but I’m realizing maybe I should be prioritizing other things like family and comfort.” 

He drew her into a hug. She breathed in smelling comforting scent of books and that smoky pine that he always seemed to carry with him. After what seemed an eternity of silence, he spoke quietly. 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with changing your mind. And I know we’ve only known each other a few months so I won’t put my foot in my mouth by saying anything too soon. But you’re…” He seemed to struggle with his words for a moment. “You’re so incredibly lovely Emma Hornberger and there has not been a second with you that I have regretted.” 

The rest of the way to the restaurant, they walked hand in hand.


	8. Chapter 9

As late autumn in Boston turned into early winter, Emma found it hard not to use her magic more and more. She hadn’t realized how often she had used it in the past for the smallest of things, like making sure her car hadn’t frozen over the evening before or that that the trains would run on time. One evening as Sarah come over for their Saturday night “girl time,” Sarah was also bitching about the horrible transit this winter.

“I mean, honestly, it’s like something has gone horridly wrong with the T this year. Like did they even update it from last year. It seemed like it was perfectly fine.”

Emma was also pissed. She had been stuck on one train for at least an hour and a half that evening without any kind of technological stimulation on hand. “I know what you mean.” She groaned. “Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s good I’m using less magic but sometimes it really results in a lot of inconveniences.” 

“Such is life.” Sarah shrugged and without thinking Emma answered. 

“I just wish things could be a bit easier this winter.” 

She clapped her hand over her mouth in horror. “Ah hell – I didn’t mean to do that. Maybe it didn’t work because the intent wasn’t behind it?” 

Sarah let out a low breath, “Let’s hope so. You’ve got to be more careful Emma – that wish is so broad. It could be referring to anyone, especially witch hunters.”

“Okay” Emma said stubbornly, “But I would think that magic that is based around wishing must have to do with intent because otherwise, would magic even be able to distinguish between subconscious and very much wanted wishes? That makes no sense logically!”  
“And you expected magic to be logical?” Sarah quipped back at her. “It’s in the definition. Magic doesn’t make sense.” 

Emma sighed. “I suppose. I just hope no one noticed that. Can you see anything or sense it?” 

“Not really.” Sarah looked hopeful, “Maybe it was nothing.”

“Let’s hope so.” 

Unfortunately, it was not just nothing. Like many of her other ones, this spell was devastatingly effective. As the two girls sat and chatted about their weeks, trying to avoid the elephant in the room, an ancient device began to start ticking. But Sarah and Emma didn’t know about such a device. 

The next week, they met for dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. Rather than be worried about what happened, Emma decided to ignore it entirely. She didn’t want to think about the possibility that she might have outed herself. In fact, she was so exhausted of being worried that she wanted to think about anything else. She and Sarah had not been making progress on their goals. Emma had been visiting the library and reading about how magic existed in the real world, but nothing had been useful. Because magic was such a personal thing, much of the literature was philosophical in nature rather than actually analytic. 

So, as they sat there with their respective tacos and margaritas, she decided to tell Sarah just how serious she and Harry had been getting.

“Of course,” she continued. “I won’t tell him about the secret sauce, so to speak, but I really feel like there’s something there. But how can I get to the point where I know it’s for real rather than just an endless series of dinner dates. We have discussed our plans, but I don’t know… I’m just struggling. I’ve never gotten this far in a relationship before.”

Sarah made an empathetic noise as she inhaled her fish taco. “I know what you mean. I really struggled to the getting serious portion of the relationship with Mark. I felt as though we were in the casual relationship phase for so long. You know, we went to shows together, went to dinners and did Netflix and chill God knows how many times. And then suddenly it just reached a level where it was serious. I don’t know if it was when he invited me to a funeral or wedding but there was some kind of event and then it was real.” 

“A funeral.” Emma snorted in her mouth. “That would definitely make things interesting.” 

“Have you even had sex with this Harry character yet?” Sarah asked. “I know you meet up with him a lot and you like him but what about physical chemistry?”

“Well” Emma’s cheeks heated up, “Well not yet. We’ve kept it very PG-13 if you know what I mean.” 

Sarah guffawed. “Yes, I do, but that’s very unlike you.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Emma laughed. “He seems special.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, only broken by the sounds of margaritas and tacos being eaten and drunken together. Just as they were both getting to that comfortable buzz of being just tipsy enough to laugh uncontrollably, a man burst through the door. 

He was tall, wearing camouflage pants as though he had been hunting in the wilderness, and his face was concealed by a large brown beard. The hostess approached him, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Can I help you, sir?” She asked hesitantly. “Most of our tables are booked tonight, but I could get you a spot at the bar.” 

He completely ignored her, looking around the room carefully. He was holding a device in his hand that was ticking slightly. Just as the strange man was about to lock eyes with Sarah and Emma’s table, the hostess noticed the device and screamed “Bomb!”

Everyone dropped to the ground and there was a mad rush for the kitchen. Within seconds, the peaceful scene of the restaurant was overrun with panicked diners. Sarah had grabbed Emma and pulled them into the kitchen, crouching behind main stove. The kitchen workers had looked at them in confusion when they saw they weren’t running outside. From the inside of the kitchen, however, both had a slightly obscured view of the man in the restaurant. He looked first surprised and then apologetic.

“No, no” He yelled without any effect. “It’s not a bomb. It’s… It’s… a tracking device.” He looked a bit down as the chaos erupted around him. His one chance at finding the witches, gone. Even if they had been here, they were gone now. Sarah gestured to Emma that they needed to stay down.

“Witch hunter.” She whispered. 

“How can you tell?” Emma asked, also whispering. She was, at once both terrified and irritated that someone had interrupted her favorite evening and meal of the week. 

“I don’t know…” Sarah seemed frustrated. “But it’s obviously one. Look at his hunting material, his tracking device. I’ve never seen one before but it’s exactly how it is described in the stories.”

“But Sarah.” Emma said, “Those are just stories. This is just some crazy guy who wanted a spot at one of Boston’s best Mexican restaurant without a reservation.”

Sarah shrugged. “Maybe so, but it’s not worth sticking around to find out.”   
After much apologies from the staff and the police arriving minutes later to find the man missing and a batch of terrified diners and staff in the kitchen, Sarah and Emma continued on their night. The joyfulness spurred on by the promise of margaritas was, unfortunately lost. They sat at another bar down the street pondering what had just happened.

“Okay – so again. Tell me what the stories say about these hunters”

Sarah took a deep breath. “They say that hunters always have some sort of ticking device that can find witches, that they come from the wilderness when they are particularly riled up and are overall insane and just want to kill witches.”

“Hm” Emma conceded, “While I want to believe that it is just stories and nonsense meant to scare young witches into compliance – I’m worried that you’re right. Like why was he there? How did he find us?” 

“There’s not a lot of lore on how witch hunters work for obvious reasons.” Sarah said

“Have you heard back from your grandmother or mother yet?” Emma asked. As she nursed her cocktail, she couldn’t help but worry that things were escalating much quicker than she had anticipated. They still hadn’t found someone to help her harness her magic and without it, she was essentially powerless against these witch hunters. To be fair, Emma had expected modern day witch hunters to have the power of technology on their side. She had been concerned that there was some powerful monitoring tool that could narrow down the practicing of magic down to the miles

This situation just went to show that witch hunters had not advanced much in the past hundred years. However, their methods obviously still yielded them results. But it still begged the question of how he had found them. The spell she had cast was over a week old. Did that mean that magic somehow left traces? And if it did, was there any way of getting rid of those traces? 

“Actually” Sarah said, breaking Emma from her internal musings. “My mom just texted me. She said it was urgent and that we should just drop by.”

“But your mom doesn’t live in Boston, does she?”

“No” Sarah answered, looking grim. “She lives in Salem.”


	9. Chapter 9

After both women had gone home and gotten some much needed sleep, Emma woke up early in the morning the Sunday they were meant to go to Salem. It was a cold Boston morning, and from her bed, she could see how all of her windows had a layer of condensation from her heating indoors. Jingles was sleeping at the end of her bed, curled up into a comfortable ball. Despite having met Sarah’s mom once at graduation, she was still nervous to meet her. Traveling to Salem, while it was something she had done for fun with Harry and during her university years, was a very different animal when paired with the fear of witch hunters.

She pondered whether this fear of discovery was something that all witches felt. Surely it wasn’t just her who worried that she would be discovered at any moment. How had witches in the past dealt? Although Salem was the so-called witch center of America, Emma knew from experience that Salem was an overblown tourist trap. There were no witches there and most of the so-called witches who had been killed so long ago were just prosaic women. Nonetheless, she was still hyper aware of the stereotypes.

By the time her alarm went off several hours later, Emma had been up for hours. First, she had made a cup of coffee, followed by tea and then by oatmeal. She made Jingles breakfast and sat with him on the couch to calm her nerves. It was as though some anxious energy hovered around her wherever she went. If she wasn’t so sure that it was her own worry, she would have thought she was under some kind of spell.

She met Sarah at Boston’s North Station so they could take the quick hop up to Salem. The early morning winter air was crisp but neither of them seemed to mind as they jumped into the trains. The Amtrak trains were never in what you would call peak condition. They all felt outdated, smelled distinctly odd and often times the internet signal was impossible to connect to. As they sat down in their carriage, Sarah finally broke their silence.

“How are you doing?” She offered up, looking a bit peaky.

Emma shrugged, burrowing herself deeper into her winter coat. “I’m okay. I’m still a bit frazzled though. I was anxious this whole morning and barely slept. How about you?”

“Same.” Sarah agreed. “I’m always happy for a chance to see my mom but you know these circumstances are far from ideal.”

“But on the plus side.” Emma said, “You do get to see your mom and we’re going somewhere where most witch hunters avoid like the plague. They know how many false positives are going on there.”

“That’s true.” Sarah conceded. “I do feel a bit safer knowing that.” 

Emma smiled. “There, now let’s talk about something more exciting.”

“Something more exciting than witches and witch hunters?” Sarah laughed. “I can’t think of anything more.”

Their conversation then left the topics of witches and magic and moved on to more calming things, like their careers, their love lives and the ever-present question of what the best bar was in Boston. It was the little moments like these, Emma reflected as she was laughing at some acerbic comment Sarah made about Harry, that she was reminded of how much normalcy was nice. She had longed for adventure and passion all of her life. That wasn’t to say she didn’t still want those things but now, now she had a greater appreciation for the small things that made every day just that smallest bit happier.

Soon, however, they reached Salem. As they exited the terminal, a formidable woman greeted them. She was wearing a long severe looking dark blue dress, but her face was all smiles and welcome.

“Sarah, Emma!” She called out as they walked towards her. “It’s so good to see you my darlings. Come here so I can get a proper look at you.” 

Sarah went bounding towards her mother, who immediately swept her up in a hug. The two briefly hugged before her mother released her and turned towards Emma.

“Emma” She said fondly. “It’s been a few years. I think the last time I saw you was your graduation. You can call me Ariana, Come here.” She also enfolded the surprised Emma in a hug.

Emma’s parents were not exactly warm and soft cinnamon muffins. They loved their daughter, but they didn’t show it in a physical sense. So, when Sarah’s mom hugged her so kindly – Emma almost had to bite back a surprised gasp. It was so rare for her to receive any asked for physical contact. 

“Let’s head to the car” Ariana said and together they walked towards a shiny SUV in the parking lot. The ride home was filled with the same sort of comfortable conversation that Emma and her parents never had. Ariana asked Emma and Sarah about their lives, inquiring mischievously about Sarah’s married life and Emma’s new beau.

“Honestly, darlings.” She laughed. “You two are the only source of gossip I need. Sarah’s father never has enough from his work trips.”

By the time they reached their home, Emma was feeling very relaxed. As the three of them chattered away, Emma was forced to wonder what life would have been like if she had had someone like Ariana to work with her through learning about magic. 

Their home was very inviting, a house tucked away in the woods with a beautiful deck and large windows that were framed with ivy and latticework. As Sarah opened the door, a cat came outside. She was beautiful tabby, obviously on the older side, who meowed insistently until Sarah picked up her, all the while cooing at how much more beautiful, she had become while Sarah was away. 

“What can I say?” Ariana laughed. “Some stereotypes about witches are true” 

Later in the afternoon after they had gotten settled with some tea and cookies - Ariana had insisted – they all sat down in the parlor. 

“Now Emma.” Ariana opened with kindly. “Sarah tells me that you’ve just discovered you are a witch and you’re having trouble figuring it all out.”

Before Emma could contain herself, it all came out. The wishing power that she had possessed for as long as she could remember, Sarah finding out, the coven intimidating them and lastly, the witch hunter. “And I… I just don’t know what to do.” Her voice cracked. “I love my magic; I’ve always loved using it but now I’m frightened because I don’t know its limits or whether a witch hunter will find me. I don’t know how they haven’t before.”

Sarah hugged her while looking at her mother significantly. Ariana sighed. “Let me tell you about my magic. I’m sure Sarah told you that her magic, like mine and my mother’s is based on rituals. We perform magic in the traditional sense with alters, offerings and by being present on certain days of the year. The lunar cycle is particularly important to us. You’re probably asking yourself why this should matter to you. After all, your magic is very different. However, I don’t think so. One of my feelings is that all of our magic comes from the same place. Whether you wish for something or you perform a ritual, we all act in certain ways that brings out our magic.”

Ariana took a deep breath. “I’ve been looking for someone who would be able to work with you, help train your magic because I agree with Sarah. It must be trained so you can wield it appropriately.”

“Wield it?” Emma asked. “That sounds vaguely warlike.”

“It is.” Ariana smiled sadly. “Whether or not you want to believe it, we have always been at war. Some choose to ignore it, to think that the world is just not ready for us, but there are those out there who would wish us dead – like your witch hunter. We have to always be ready, always prepared to do what we must to stay alive.”

“I’ve never heard you talk like this, mom” Sarah said nervously. 

“I haven’t had to with you, Sarah.” Ariana stroked her cheek. “Your grandmother and I taught you about how to be ready without using this kind of language. You were young. This kind of thinking came more naturally to you rather than now with Emma, as she’s older and there’s no time for coddling.”

“So, have you found this person to train me?” 

“Not quite yet.” Ariana admitted. “I think I have; I’m just confirming with them, but it would require you to travel. She’s located in Boulder, Colorado – another witch haven. She’s an old practitioner of magic and I’ve known of her my whole life. She would be able to help you down your path.”

“And” Ariana continued. “To answer your question about why witch hunters have never found you before, there is again a story I must tell.”


	10. Chapter 10

Ariana took a deep breath, closing her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “It’s a long and complicated story. It all started when I was a young witch. Sarah, my love, you didn’t even exist then. I was living with my coven in London and life was so different back then. We were always on the lookout for witch hunters but much more than now. We didn’t know how witch hunters tracked us, but we knew that we could easily blend in populations with lots of folk that were also discriminated against.”

Emma rested her chin on her hand, thinking deeply. That method made sense. Even though the coven might not have known how these witch hunters were tracking them, they could at least take precautions about being found. Amongst a large swath of people, all of whom were being hunted by another government or larger party, witches could easily blend in. 

Ariana continued, a tight-lipped smile crossing her face. “We lived for the moment more back then rather than today when everyone is concerned about climate change, the future and what we’ve seen that very second on social media. It was much freer and also more frightening. When you aren’t worried about the future, you can enjoy like more – that’s true. But you also open yourself up to many more frightening possibilities. But we just existed like that. Almost in a bubble. But of course, we were very aware of the witch hunters. And I can’t speak to your parents’ intentions, Emma…”

“Wait” Emma froze and stared with wide eyes at Ariana. “My parents were in your coven?”

Ariana looked puzzled. “Of course. But you knew that.”

“No” Emma gripped the side of her chair tightly. “No, I didn’t. My parents have never told me anything about witchcraft.”

Ariana’s eyebrows raised. “Ah – that would explain a lot. How can I… well, I suppose it must just be enough to say that your parents and I performed a spell that would cast a sort of blanketing over your magic against witch hunters, so you wouldn’t have to worry about them as we did.”

“What kind of a blanketing spell would that be?” Emma narrowed her eyes. “Why didn’t I know about it?” 

Ariana pinched her nose. “I didn’t know you were their daughter until recently, or I would have explained this very differently. But needless to say, we knew that you were going to have some sort of different power than the traditional witchcraft from the start. Your mother called me early in her pregnancy in a panic. You were far too advanced in your movements and she felt like something was wrong. This was after we had performed the blanketing spell and she was nervous that something that gone wrong.” 

“Wait – so you performed a blanketing spell on a child that hadn’t even been born yet?” Sarah cut in this time, looking shocked. “That seems really dangerous mom.”

“What can I tell you?” Ariana shrugged, slumping her shoulders. “Your mother was sure of it, Emma. She always had the gift of sight. She just needled me until I agreed to work with her and her father. She said she knew her daughter would be too powerful and needed some kind of protection against the daily threat of witch hunters that we faced our whole life.”

Emma listened as Ariana’s voice faded away into silence, staring at her as shock took over. Her parents were witches? She had been protected most of her life and she didn’t know why? Her mother had the sight? The thoughts swirled around in her head as she sat in Sarah’s comfortable living room. It felt unreal, as though the situation wasn’t happening to her, but rather an imitation of her who was standing in for her. 

“Emma – darling, are you okay?” Ariana asked hesitantly. ‘I know it’s a lot to take in.”

Emma gulped, bringing her palms to her forehead. “I just… I didn’t expect this. I expected you to tell me about how to protect myself against witch hunters, to give me some kind of potion or whatever you read about in Harry Potter. I’m sorry –“ she said in a half sob to Sarah. “I know I keep bringing it up but it’s one of my favorite series and I just always associate it with magic.”

“I know, Em” Sarah said, reaching over to grab her hand. “I’m here for you and you use any Harry Potter reference you want to.” 

Emma laughed, wiping her eyes. “Thank you, Sarah. I’m just… let me take a deep breath. Okay. So if I had this blanketing spell on me my whole life, did it dampen my usage of magic at all? Because I never felt like I had to reach through any kind of blanket to practice my magic.”

“No, no.” Ariana said, smiling gently, palms up. “We would never dampen your magic – that would be akin to suffocating you. A blanketing spell is one that places a blanket on anyone else’s recognition of your abilities and special nature to others. We witches, we tend to give off a scent. I don’t know how else to describe it – it’s as though prosaic people can tell that we’re different. A blanketing spell lays a heavy wool blanket on top of that awareness so that their eyes slide right over us.”

“And…” Emma hesitated. “Is that spell still active today?” 

Ariana also looked hesitant. “I’m not sure.” She said. “If that witch hunter was able to locate you – I would say no. But you had performed the spell two weeks prior, you said? That’s quite a long time for a witch hunter to be able to find you afterwards. And you hadn’t performed anything recently, Sarah?” 

“Not at all” Sarah said, looking earnest. “I haven’t performed any magic without the requisite dampening spell afterwards in years – I’m really good at it.”

“That’s troubling.” Ariana steepled her fingers. “How did he find you then? Your blanketing spell should still be active. Let me feel.” She reached out her hands, gently touching each side of Emma’s forehead. As soon as her fingers touched Emma’s forehead, she could immediately smell cedar and sage, as though someone had blessed her with it a long time ago. It was the scent of warm firewood, and the feeling of witches covering her with their protection. Emma breathed in the scent, feeling at once dizzy and comforted at the same time.

As Ariana removed her hand, the scents faded in the background – replaced by a warm and comforting sensation of being wrapped in a blanket. Ariana had a fond smile on her face as she reached out to squeeze Emma’s hand. 

“That is the smell of your magic, my magic, and both of your parent’s magic working together in tandem to protect you.” 

“It smells like home.” Emma murmured, still caught up in the comfort of it.

Ariana looked up, smiling. “The blanketing spell is still active. It’s more dormant now that you haven’t been practicing magic for the last few months but I’m almost positive if you cast a spell – it would reactivate it.”

“Could I try here?” Emma asked eagerly, leaning forward

“I don’t see why not.” Ariana smiled. “I have so many protection spells on this house that anything should be muted by that and by your own spell. “Go ahead.” 

Emma was suddenly at a loss. What to wish for? There were so many things. She wanted to wish for the whole story to be solved, the mystery of her parents ended, but after speaking to Sarah – she also knew she needed to limit her own spells. The fact that she hadn’t done so already was a testament to her own self-restraint. So then, what to ask for? Then a smile broke across her face. She knew. She closed her eyes and wished that she could be holding a cup of the best hot chocolate in the world – her mother’s mix of hot cocoa, cinnamon, cardamom and the slightest hint of heat - topped with small marshmallows. 

As she opened her eyes, she heard a gasp. In her hands, she was holding her favorite hot chocolate hosted in her favorite mug from back home in Vermont. 

“Well?” She asked, raising her eyebrows, looking at Ariana. “Anything?” 

The woman stuttered, mouth open. “That was…” She paused for a moment and sniffed the air. “You’re fine, Emma.” She said after a moment and smiled, “There’s that blanketing spell. Good as the day we cast it.” 

Emma let out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and took a sip of the hot chocolate. She let out a deep sigh of contentment. One problem down – a million to go.


	11. Chapter 11

After Emma’s show of magic, Ariana had moved as though she was electrified. Her movements were jerky, her fingers quivering in excitement as she led them into the kitchen for lunch. After two warming bowls of pumpkin soup, she had waved them out of the door, promising something about reaching out to a friend of a friend. Bemusedly, Emma and Sarah looked at each other.

“I wonder what was up with mom” Sarah wondered, twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers. “She was so out of it the second you showed her the magic.”

Emma shrugged uncomfortably. “Maybe it was just very new magic to her. I’m not sure how active she is in her coven, or if she has seen anything akin to it before. I mean… hello, my MOM was a witch!?”

“I know!” Sarah agreed, shaking her head, “It’s insane they haven’t talked to you about it. You just talked to them about it, though right?”

Emma groaned. “Yes, and they didn’t make a sound. I really don’t know what to think.” 

“Maybe they’re trying to protect you?” Sarah suggested but it was a feeble suggestion. Emma hoped she was right. She didn’t want to believe that her parents were aggressively trying to keep her in the dark, but what other explanation was there. They had never had a particularly good relationship, but Emma didn’t think that warranted keeping a huge part of her heritage separate from her. 

As they boarded the train back to Boston, Emma didn’t want to voice her concerns. She felt like there was something larger at play. Ariana had seemed too excited. The fact that her parents hadn’t told her about this huge part of her life. There were too many factors that suggested to Emma that there was something she was missing. Much as she wanted to talk about it with Sarah more, she was worried about this missing piece. She also couldn’t talk about it with Harry. 

Biting her lip, she brought her cellphone out – debating texting her someone. But who was there to text? There were her parents, which she had just decided were out. There was Harry, who was definitely out. And there was Sarah, who was already sitting across from her and she didn’t’ want to burden with this information.   
“You look very deep in thought” Sarah remarked, interrupting Emma’s train of thought.

She stuck her tongue out. “And how do you think you interrupting me helped with that?” 

Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know – but sometimes it helps to think these things aloud rather than get all distracted within your own head.” 

Emma interlaced her fingers, uncomfortable with Sarah’s close observation. “Maybe. I’m just…” She paused. “I’m struggling because I feel like there’s something bigger at play here. I know she’s your mom but – “ 

“I was just about to say.” Sarah interrupted. “She acted so incredibly odd. She gave us a lot of good information but at the end, after you performed some magic, it was so weird. I didn’t want to say anything but even I was weirded out.” 

Emma nodded so fast it felt like she was one of those bobblehead dolls sold in stores. “I didn’t want to say it to you but yes! I was so confused. Like first she tells me that my parents are magical and then gets all weird after I show her magic. Just like… there must be something else.”

“I just don’t know what.” She added after a pause. “But it’s something big.”

Sarah hummed. “Well let’s think logically. How do these fantasy stories usually work?”

“Fantasy stories?” Emma questioned. “What does my life have to do with fantasy stories?” 

Sarah laughed. “You’re talking to a psychologist. It’s sort of our jobs to find metaphors and help people work through things. You’re a huge Harry Potter fan, right?” Emma nodded. “Right. So, I’m finding a medium that I know you love, which is fantasy stories. Your problems are, of course, a bit different from my usual clients but let’s think as I said, logically.” 

“So…” Emma started. “I guess in fantasy stories, the protagonist usually finds out something about themselves that they didn’t know before. In my case, magic. Then there is some kind of problem that arises because without conflict – there’s no story. In my case, witch hunters and an inability to control my magic.” She hesitated.

“And then” Sarah prompted. “What comes next.” 

“Usually there’s some kind of wise woman who tells all.”

“Like my mom” Sarah cut in. “But she doesn’t give you all the information. Just like Dumbledore.” 

Emma laughed. “This seems like it’s fitting all of the categories too closely to be real.”

“You’d be surprised how often this happens in sessions.” Sarah smiled. “People don’t realize that the lens they see the world through is also generally created by a human, which means that they can model their choices and their decisions based on something that already exists.”

Emma agreed, wanting to talk about Harry Potter, Lord of the Things- anything but worry about what was coming next. But unfortunately, that wasn’t really an option anymore. “Okay so – we just had our wise woman tell us part of the story, which means we have to go and seek out the other half. And we have to actually do it, because it is the doing and the effort of it that makes it all count.”

“So, what you’re saying is that it’s time for some action.” Sarah asked. “Like you want to take action in a way that is different to how we have handled this before.”

Emma nodded slowly. “I think so. I think as the protagonist I need to go out and find this information, whether it’s in the library or going to Boulder or figuring out something because just staying put and trying to live my normal life is no longer an option.”

“Care for a hand along the way?” Sarah quipped. “That’s a joke – I know you do.”

They laughed for a moment before the mood turned serious again. “Look Sarah…” She began. “I’ve been so happy to have you along for this ride so far but again, I asked you this at the beginning of the road and you said that you were bored. But – I still can’t believe that you want to be here for this. This is such a mess and you wanting to be here – honestly it’s a bit suspicious.” 

Sarah maintained eye contact with Emma. “I can understand why you think it’s suspicious. After all, we hadn’t talked in years really before this and now suddenly I’m aspiring to be your best friend and witchy partner. I get it, Em. It’s weird. I’m just…” She looked very vulnerable for a moment. “I’m trying to figure everything out too. I know I act like I know what I’m doing but I just married someone who I’m realizing I’m not even sure I want to be married to. The parts of my life that are work and home feel like I’m play acting someone else’s life. When we’re together, I actually feel alive, like I’m doing something that matters.”

“I had no idea you felt that way.” Emma said softly, reaching forward to hug Sarah. “How long have you felt like that.”

Sarah’s lips trembled. “Some time. You just get caught in these loops in life and it’s so hard to break free.”

“It’s scary.” Emma supplied. “To do something that completely uproots you from your comfortable home life. I get it, Em. But I don’t want you to walk out on your husband because you have a friend who needs help. Surely as a therapist you know better than anyone that you just need to talk things out. I mean, god, you just got married.”   
“Well… yes and no.” Sarah avoided Emma’s eyes. “We did just get married, but we’ve been together eight years. And the first of those I did ahem help along a bit with a love spell.”

Emma had to regain her calm. “A love spell?” She asked a bit shrilly. “Isn’t that like really bad?”

Sarah nodded miserably. “It is. He found out of course and that was when we had our discussion about who I was and who he was. He’s not a witch hunter per say, but he’s not pro me using my powers. He’s aware of them but he disapproves if I use them. It’s almost like having a keeper who watches my usage. I almost feel like he’s testing me to see if I can be normal if I don’t use my powers.”

“That’s horrible.” Emma shuddered. “How are you still living there?”

“Surviving.” Sarah offered up. “I’m finding out ways of getting in little bits of magic from time to time when I’m out. But it’s hard and he knows.”

“It sounds like an abusive relationship.” Emma said shrewdly. “One that you can’t really extricate yourself from. In fact, it sounds almost as though you need a trip, like an adventure.”

Sarah smiled softly. “That would be nice.”

“What do you say?” Emma found herself bubbly, an overabundance of excitable energy causing her toes and fingers to wriggle. “Next flight out to Boulder for a girl’s weekend?”

Sarah couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward to hug Emma tightly while whispering. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”


	12. Chapter 12

Over the next week, Emma planned their weekend out to Boulder with the kind of precision that was normally reserved for conferences and summits. She wanted to make sure that they didn’t waste any time but also that there was time allotted for relaxing and recovery. Throughout this whole planning process, Emma also couldn’t help thinking how much easier these big adventures and trips seemed when characters undertook them in stories. There was no worrying about flights, budgets and hotels. People just did things and details were unimportant. Whereas, now in real life, she had to take off time from work as did Sarah. They had to find flights, figure out the transport from the airport to the hotel. 

In short, it was exhausting and not at all the kind of information that fantasy book employed when trying to captivate their readers.

Humming to herself, Emma was moved from her musings when the phone rang. “Who is it?” She asked as she picked up the telephone.

“Emma” Her mother’s voice sounded sharper on the line than usual. “What’s this I hear about you going to Salem last weekend with that Kerner girl?” 

Emma furrowed her brows. “Kerner girl?” She asked. “Who are you talking about?” 

Her mother huffed. “You know who I’m talking about, that friend of yours from college that I thought it would be best if you never spoke to again.” 

Growing indignant, Emma rolled her eyes. “That’s my friend mother. Her name is Sarah and we just went up on a tour of the old city. Some casual fun.”

Her mother snorted. “Unlikely. That family is nothing but trouble.”

“Oh, so I suppose putting a blanketing spell on me and not telling me about magic is your idea of not being a troublesome family then?” Emma shot back at her, tired of their little game.

Her mother quieted. “Emma” She said once before sounding torn. “I… it’s more complicated than you’re making it out to be.”

“Why didn’t you explain any of this to me?” Emma railed. “I have been so behind the curve on this and you can’t say it was for my own safety. I’ve been doing all I can to just stay alive and if I had had the knowledge and information that you and dad could have easily given me – I would have been so much better off.”

There was a click of the phone and she felt her father long before he spoke. “Sweetheart.” He started, before hesitating. “This isn’t something to be spoken about on the phone. We had our reasons – just come home for a weekend and we’ll explain everything.”

“Why should I do that?” Emma challenged. “When I’m getting all the information I need from, as mom so calmly put it, that Kerner girl.” 

She could almost feel her father tightly shut his eyes and bring his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Emma, just please. We’ll explain everything, you just have to give us a chance honey. We’ll even pay for your ticket back.”

Emma took a deep breath, knowing intrinsically that her anger was doing nothing to solve the problem. “Look I can’t this weekend – I’m going to B- … I’m on a trip with a friend but maybe the weekend after or the one after that? I still have to work.”

“Boulder?” Her mother quietly said, almost too quiet for Sarah to have heard. “Be careful Emma.” 

Emma was tired of this conversation, so she clipped out a quick “Thanks. Chat soon.” And hung up the phone.   
It was at that moment that Emma wanted to blow it all up. She wanted to wish for all of the most dramatic and legendary objects, like her parent’s love and trust or for everything to be solved. She wanted the witch hunters to find her and drown her like the old Salem witches of old. She just wanted an easy solution to this never-ending stress. Of course, things were never that easy.

And as she calmed down, she tried to remind herself that in those fantasy stories Sarah was so fond of talking about, there was never an easy solution out. The only way to really get to where you needed to go was by walking. Could her parents give her answers? Absolutely. Did she trust those answers would be free of bias in the same way that she could get her answers? No. 

Gulping down a sob, Emma sat down, allowing her face to rest in her hands. When had things gotten so complicated? A few months ago, she had been living her version of ‘the dream.’ She had a job, a cat, and a great apartment. Now she was caught in-between her old version of that dream and the new uncertainty that being a witch and all its confusion represented. 

Shelving that emotional breakdown for later, she pulled herself together. There were so many things to do before they left for Boulder and on top of her list was to find a cat sitter for Jingles. 

Later that evening, Sarah dropped by with the ingredients to make homemade spaghetti Bolognese. While Emma was usually a vegetarian on a good day, the stress of it all had led to her texting Sarah to ask for this most decadent of dishes. As Emma explained the situation to Sarah, her friend had made the appropriate sounds of contrition, empathy and sympathy.

“It’s just really ridiculous that they told you nothing, Emma” She commented conversationally over a pot of boiling pasta. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I met them at graduation, and they seemed like perfectly nice people.”

“It just goes to show, right?” Emma said savagely while chopping up celery and carrots. 

“But look.” Sarah sighed. “I can’t say I agree with them, but I think you should hear them out. I know that we’re going to figure this out, the two of us, but their input probably brings you information that you would never otherwise get. No one else apart from your mom will know why she cast that spell. You’ve got to find out.”

A shadow passed over Emma’s face. “I know” she admitted. “I’m just still struggling with everything they did to me. I just want to know my history and who I am, and it hurts that they kept something so essential from me.” 

Sarah left the pasta for a moment and leaned over to hug her. “I know” she said quietly. “And we’re going to find out why.” 

After a delicious dinner, they discussed their plans for Boulder. Sarah’s mother had finally gotten back to her with the name of the woman they were supposed to contact. After some light stalking, or in Sarah’s mindset ‘research’, they found her name and address. On Facebook, her name was Caitlyn Ramirez. Her profile picture looked smiling up at them surrounded by three kids and a laughing man beside her.

“This is the woman who is supposed to help me?” Emma snorted. “She looks more like a crazy advertisement for a Christian mom support group.” 

Sarah laughed. “Maybe don’t say that to her face. Mom says she’s one of the more skilled witches in her generation and is known worldwide for her gifts.”

As they both cocked their heads starting at the photo, Emma marveled that someone so skilled could come across as so ordinary. It made her think that anyone could hide being a witch if they really wanted to. For the first time in a while, she finally started to feel a bit hopeful. That maybe she could return to a normal life after this was over, start something with Harry.

Just then, her phone rang. “Is it Harry?” Sarah asked probingly. 

“Maybe” Emma’s cheeks reddened before she answered. 

“Hey” she picked up. “You’re calling late.” 

“I thought I’d surprise you” He sounded mischievous. “I’m standing outside your house.”

“What!” She shot up. “Now? You’re here?” 

“Yes, are you busy?” 

“Well, Sarah is here”

“I don’t mind” He still sounded cheeky and she couldn’t help herself. She looked at Sarah and mouthed ‘He’s coming in’ to her. She rolled her eyes and walked back in the kitchen. 

“Okay coming now”

She hung up the phone and bounded to the doorway. Harry was standing there, a bouquet of roses in his hand and a little smile on his face. 

“No special reason” He said before she could respond or bluster. “Just because I’m dating the best woman in the world and you deserve to be loved.” She stuttered, not having an answer. 

“Thank you” She finally answered, blushing. “Do you want to come in for a drink?” 

“If Sarah doesn’t mind” He said diplomatically. 

“I’m sure she doesn’t” 

Before Emma could call inside to make sure Sarah was in fact okay with this, she heard a “I don’t” coming from within the kitchen. Harry stepped over her doorway and they walked towards the kitchen, hand in hand. Just as Sarah rounded the corner, three empty wine glasses in her hand and a bottle of wine in the other – her eyes widened upon seeing Harry.

“You!” She stepped back. “You’re the Harry I’ve been hearing about?” 

Harry also had taken a step back. “Sarah?” He asked weakly. “What… you’re that Sarah?”

“Explain. Now.” Emma narrowed her eyes at both of them.


	13. Chapter 13

As the three of them stood in Emma’s living room staring at one another, Emma finally broke the silence. “If you’re going to explain,” she began pointedly, “at least let’s have it be done over some food or the wine you so kindly brought.”

Harry smiled weakly. “We can do that.” 

The three of the sat down, Sarah and Harry eyeing each other warily from opposite sides of the room. Emma didn’t know what to think. She hadn’t exactly introduced Harry to Sarah before this point for no particular reason except a gut feeling that they might not like one another. It wasn’t as though Sarah and Harry would fight or heavily dislike each other, she had rationalized, it was simply that she didn’t particularly think they would get along. Sarah was headstrong, always willing to speak her mind and interrupt others to get her point across. Harry was… very much the opposite. He was willing to listen and always give someone a chance to say their peace before expressing his opinion, always honestly. 

So here they finally were – meeting. 

“How do you know Harry, Sarah?” She opened the conversation with as much candor and politeness as she could.

Sarah looked immensely uncomfortable. “We met a long time ago when we were in grade school together. I think, if I’m not mistaken, your parents had moved for a semester to the town I grew up in London for some reason or another. And you joined our coven.”

Harry also looked uncertain, his eyes darting from Emma to Sarah quickly. He looked like he wanted to speak but was also concerned that whatever he said would end in trouble. “Emma” he started and then stopped again. “Are you-“ 

“If the question you’re looking for is ‘Are you a witch, Emma’ – then the answer would be yes.” Emma answered primly. She examined him. “Are you a witch, Harry?”

He looked relieved. “Yes, yes I am. Well – I’m as close to a full-blooded witch as there ever was one. I was raised, like Sarah said, in her coven with her parents for a brief period of time before I was sent back to Seattle. But I’ve been leaving it behind. I think most of us are these days. That’s why I was so happy to find you.” He buried his head in his hands. “I was so happy to find someone normal, at least so I thought.”

Now Emma was the one who felt conflicted. “I… I just wanted normalcy too.” She began cautiously. “I just wanted someone who made me feel like the complexities about witchcraft and that whole life wouldn’t be so terrifying. I’m… Harry, look maybe you don’t want to be with me. I just found out about all of this and it’s all very new to me.” 

He blinked once. “New to you? But you’re… how did you not know?” 

She shrugged nervously. “It just never came up between my parents and me. I just found out when I did something that attracted the attention of some witch hunters and the local Boston coven.”

He whistled low in his throat. “That’s some serious magic then. And you knew nothing about what it was?” She shook her head. “That’s also… concerning. Magic has been kept secret for so long because we are able to control it. I mean, imagine if we weren’t able to? It would get out.” 

“Is that why you don’t use it?” She asked him quietly, almost forgetting Sarah was in the room. “Because you’re scared of being discovered.”

He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “Not really. I just… I don’t have a good history with magic. My father was a prosaic person and my mother was a witch, but he didn’t like it. He thought it was unnatural so I hide it from him for as long as I could and trust me, when you get so used to hiding it, it becomes more natural to not use it than to do so.”

Sarah looked sad. “But your magic was so beautiful, Harry.” She whispered. “It brought something beautiful to the world.”

He smiled sadly back before looking down. “I’m happy you think so. But I don’t think most other people do.”

“If I can ask.” Emma offered. “What is your magic?” 

Harry rubbed his hands together, creating a small spark before he whispered something underneath his breath and blowing gently on his palms. Out of his hands rose a small ball which expanded until the three witches were sitting inside of it. Emma looked around in wonder. It felt like she was alone in the universe, staring at the billions of stars and galaxies that twinkled at her. She smiled, feeling hope blossoming in her chest. 

“It’s… it’s beautiful.” She whispered. “How could you not think this is something incredible, Harry.”

She looked at him, astonished to see his face alight in happiness and contentedness in a way that she hadn’t ever seen it before. It was as though he was exuding starlight. As he exhaled, the universe contracted and then it was just the three of them sitting alone in their living room. Emma felt simultaneously empty and filled up at the same time. She reached over and hugged him tightly, ‘Thank you.” 

He nodded into her arms, and she was surprised to feel him shaking. ‘Let’s get you some water.” She heard Sarah say before excusing herself.

“Who possibly told you that it was not incredible, Harry?” She asked him.

“My father mostly.” He said, his eyes wet with tears. “And many other people who I showed it to. It doesn’t have a purpose so to speak so people don’t think it’s useful.”

She opened her mouth before closing it again. “I don’t think magic has to be useful in order for it to be beautiful and worthwhile.”

Sarah walked back in with a glass of water that Harry drank greedily and the three of them sat in silence once more. 

“So, the two of you knew each other from childhood.” Emma prompted, “Was that all?” 

Sarah shrugged. “Essentially. I’ve run across him in the witchy circles over the past while but nothing recent and nothing serious.” She smiled at Harry, “It was just a surprise is all.”

He agreed. “I just didn’t expect you to be a witch, Emma or that you would be friends with witches. After we had that talk about normalcy recently.”

Emma laughed. “Well normalcy as far as anything can be normal, if you know what I mean.”

“So” Harry began. “So you just found out you’re a witch. But what is your magic if I may ask?” 

Emma blushed. “It’s weird.” She spread her arms. “I just wish and then bam, it happens. We also just found out my parents cast a blanketing charm on me when I was a child to hide my magic as it’s too flashy and too easy to spot. Watch.” She closed her eyes and wished for Harry to be dressed in the most obnoxious Christmas sweater. Opening her eyes, she burst into laughter. Harry looked indignantly down at himself, almost jumping out of his chair when he saw he was wearing a reindeer sweater with bright twinkling lights.

“Emma!” He looked scandalized. “A Christmas sweater, really?”

She shrugged, laughing. “I’ve always wanted to see you in one.” 

“Put me back!” 

“Yeah alright” She closed her eyes and took the wish, however reluctantly, back. As she opened her eyes, Harry indeed was wearing his old sweater. He looked in wonder at her.

“That is really an amazing gift.” He moved forward, sweeping her into a hug. “And I hope no one has ever told you to suppress that gift.”

Emma hugged him tightly. “Well, my parents didn’t see fit to tell me so I’m kind of all figuring it out as we go. Actually, Sarah and I are heading to Boulder soon to meet with someone to help me with this kind of magic, what its limits are and all that jazz.” 

He agreed. “That is a great idea, I’ve heard of some weird magics but nothing like this before, so I think it’s definitely a good idea to talk to a professional. I just wish I was able to help.”

“Keep an eye out for witch hunters?” She joked but he looked seriously at her. 

“You have to be careful. We just had one near the library last week.”

Emma’s eyes widened, looking at Sarah. “We saw one a few weeks ago in a restaurant we were in. Which is weird considering that we hadn’t performed magic in awhile and he just found us. It was actually really concerning.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “That is really worrying. We don’t want those crazy people finding anything more about us then they already do. I should alert my people.”

“Your people?” Emma questioned lightly but her tone gave away her worry.

His eyes softened. “Nothing about you of course, Emma. I just want to make sure my family is safe. I have a younger sister as you know, and I need to make sure nothing happens to her.”

“You’re not a member of the Boston coven, are you?” She asked hesitantly. 

He shook his head. “No, I don’t like their outlook on life if I’m being honest. Why do you ask?”

Sarah and Emma shared a look before laughing. “No reason. They came to pressure us a bit recently and I didn’t want them getting wind of my powers or anything more than they already need to know.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “No, I can understand that. But…” and he stood up suddenly and looked worried. “Much as I want to spend the rest of the evening talking with you both. I really need to alert my family. I don’t want anything to happen to them.”

Emma agreed. “Of course. But I’ll see you around?”

He looked at her, pulling her towards him in an embrace. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”


	14. Chapter 14

As it often happened, work somehow made two weeks seem like one or two days. At least that was how Emma justified her chaotic and haphazard packing the night before heading to Boulder. Her room was in complete and utter shambles, clothes thrown everywhere, her luggage sitting half-filled on her bed and no list of items she was missing. Just as she was running around with her toothbrush still half stuck in her mouth and her hair in a messy ponytail, her felt her phone vibrate under a mound of stuff on her bed. Frantically diving into the mess, she found her phone with a triumphant exclamation. 

She sighed as she checked her phone. It was just another reminder that her flight was leaving in just over nine hours. That meant, she checked her room again, she had just over five hours to make sure everything was in order. A meow cut through her thoughts. Jingles had walked into the room and looked disgusted. If there was ever a cat that could give Emma a piece of her mind, it would be Jingles. He jumped lightly on top of her bed and meowed at her insistently. 

“What is it boy?” She asked, petting him gently. “Are you going to miss me?” 

The cat couldn’t respond except to rub against her insistently. “I know” She murmured. “It’s only for the weekend and after that, you’ll still have to put up with me for the next fifteen years.”

She couldn’t help but look at him longingly as she continued to pack. That was the one downside of being a cat parent or any kind of animal parent for that matter. They made it difficult to leave home. Harry had promised to take care of Jingles for her and they got along – but she was still a bit anxious. 

As any cat parents would be, she reminded herself sternly. There was nothing wrong with being worried about a pet. There was nothing magical about it. It was just parental instinct. Again, time moved too fast and she found herself packing the last of her things into a small luggage, texting Harry to let him know that Jingles had been fed and calling a cab to drive her to the airport.

As the cab pulled up to Boston’s Logan Airport, she could just make out Sarah’s favorite bright purple winter coat. She waved frantically, letting out a sigh of relief when her friend waved back. It was just like Sarah to wear the most obnoxious coat in the hopes that Emma, a friend notorious for her horrible vision, would be able to spot her.

She paid the cabbie quickly and jogged up to Sarah, her breath making small puffs of icy air in the winter climate. 

“Good morning” She hugged Sarah briefly before setting her bag down.

“Let me guess” Sarah looked at her in amusement. “Didn’t sleep. Left packing till the last minute.”

Emma had the decency to look a bit abashed. “What can I say? Work got the better of me yet again. I can’t help it if clients put in their requests super late into our server.”

“And…” Sarah drew out. 

“And I left it to the last second.” Emma admitted. “As per usual.”

Sarah just rolled her eyes. “Well we’re both checked in. Is any of your baggage checked?” 

“Nah” Emma brushed her aside. “I’m a carry-on girl only.”

The two of them set off through the terminal, quickly going through security and reaching their gate long before the flight was scheduled to depart. The flight to Boulder was surprisingly pleasant. It was fairly short as flights go and Emma found it was the perfect time to actually relax without the constant strain and stress of work. As per usual, she found herself itching to be connected to her phone, wanting to check on Harry and Jingles, and wanting to check her inbox. The strain of being a millennial. 

Eventually the flight landed, and the two women picked up their rental car and drove to Boulder. It wasn’t too far of a drive and before long, they made it to their Airbnb. It was a small location but close to the center of town. Emma found herself glazing over the conversation with the host, only aware enough to give a small apologetic look to Sarah. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. It was as though she was walking through molasses and someone had put a jelly setting on her brain. 

She tried to shake her head a few times, but she couldn’t seem to clear it. Sarah seemed somewhat concerned but also blasé as they thanked their host and closed the door.

“So, what’s up?” Sarah asked. “You’ve been off since we arrived.”

Emma struggled to find the words. “I’m not really sure.” She eventually answered. “I’m just… I’m having trouble thinking. Like someone has dampened me.”

Sarah pursed her lips but didn’t reveal anything. “Let’s just get some food. Maybe you’re hungry.”

They walked downtown, admiring the architecture and smell of the mountains. It didn’t remind Emma of Vermont, but it gave her the strangest feeling that she had been there before. And now that they were out and about, Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching them. The feeling wasn’t malevolent, but it certainly caused the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck the stand up. 

After some hemming and hawing, they two sat down in a local diner. Somewhat out of it, Emma ordered herself pancakes and Sarah ordered herself eggs. 

“Do you feel that?” Emma heard herself say. “It’s just, argh, so irritating.”

Just as Sarah was about to answer, a family of five came in. Emma stared at them, feeling like she should know them. The woman looked devastatingly familiar, but the three kids distracted her. The father smiled at the waitress and asked them for their usual table, which just so happened to be across from them. Emma and Sarah shared friendly hellos with the family before falling back into silence. But just as Emma was about to make another attempt at conversation, she noticed the mother whispering something in the husband’s ear before she slid out of their booth into their own.

“Emma Hornberger? Sarah Kerner?” She asked matter-of-factly.

Both Emma and Sarah started. “Um yes?” Sarah asked timidly. “That’s us.”

“What are you doing here?” The woman asked. “I thought you would have known better?” 

“Known better?” Emma asked slowly, her mind still catching up. “What” She added after a moment, “Have you done to me?” 

The woman arched an eyebrow. “It isn’t a question of what I’ve done to you.” She said primely. “But I can undo it.” 

She snapped her fingers and suddenly the fog clouding Emma’s mind was gone. She gaped before suddenly it all came rushing back.

“You’re Caitlyn Ramirez” She said abruptly. “I know you.” 

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed, looking at Emma closely. “Actually” she responded slowly. “I don’t think you know quite as much as you should.” 

Sarah cut in. “What are you talking about?” She demanded. “My mom sent us to find you to help Emma. She said you’re one of the most powerful erm – people in the country.”   
Caitlyn shrugged. “I won’t lie and say my powers aren’t well-known but why would you think that I could help you?” 

Emma gulped, feeling as though their chance to be helped was slipping out of their fingertips. “Because I just found out about magic and I have no idea what to do. Please” Her desperation won out. “Please you have to help me.”

“But we’ve…” Caitlyn brought herself up short and stared at Emma again, muttering a few words under her breath. What she saw apparently shocked her and she drew back. “What idiots.” She muttered, drawing a hand across her face.

“Apparently” She conceded. “You do need my help. But you should have reached out before.”

“Would you have talked to me if I had?” Emma countered. 

Caitlyn cracked a smile. “Probably not.” 

She reached for her coffee back at her own table and took a sip. Her husband watched her carefully, keeping the attention of their kids on him and the menus and off of his evidently powerful wife. Caitlyn looked at both Emma and Sarah carefully. 

“I need to make sure that you are who you say you are and that your problems are indeed problems that I wish to solve.” She expressed all this within a heartbeat.

“What can we do to make sure that’s true?” Sarah answered just as quickly back.

Caitlyn considered. “Come by tonight after my kids are asleep. We can go out by the river and I can make sure that everything is a-okay. After that, well” And her mouth widened in a dangerous smile. “Well then we’ll see about fixing whatever it is that apparently has been broken.”


	15. Chapter 15

In the aftermath of their dinner and receiving Caitlyn’s address with strict instructions to come by after 10pm, Sarah and Emma wandered the streets of Boulder. The city was beautiful, and Emma couldn’t help but feel oddly at home. Now that the brain fog was gone, she found that she could appreciate the mountains and the comforting culture around them. Instead of the hipster coffee shops and expensive clothing stores of Boston, they were surrounded by climbing gear shops and smaller more local chains. 

Of course, Boulder was a college town so there was a fair share of students out drinking on the weekends. Emma remembered all too well the feeling in college that every moment not spent studying should have been spend drinking and partying. Here, that adage seemed to hold true. As she looked around, Emma still couldn’t shake the feeling that she had been here before. But in her memories, she couldn’t ever remember visiting Colorado, let alone Boulder. Frowning slightly, she expressed this dissonance to Sarah. 

Her friend pursed her lips. “I wonder” She mused. “Caitlyn also seemed to think that she had known you before. Maybe it was some kind of memory situation.”

“Sort of like Obliviate?” Emma asked, feeling horrified. She had read enough fanfiction and fiction to know that memory removal wasn’t just a cool power that you could use to get free ice cream, it was, in many cases, immoral. How could witches think that messing with someone’s mind was okay? In fact, how could they think that going deep into someone’s consciousness would ever be okay. 

She recalled the thousands of fiction stories and critical essays & podcasts she had read that focused on the inherent problem with spells like Obliviate and other worlds that centered around memory removal or obscuring. If someone had done that to her, would she ever be able to get those memories back? 

Emma bit her lip, twisting her hands. “I really hope not.” 

After wandering around for a few hours, they finally reached Caitlyn Ramirez’s house. Emma shouldn’t have been surprised that it looked like every other house on the block, but she still was. She kept thinking that at one point or another, she would encounter a witch from Practical Magic or Sabrina the Teenaged Witch. But instead she was met with a homey three-story house, with candles burning lightly in the bay window. Caitlyn opened the door quietly and ushered them inside. 

Just as the outside, the inside betrayed nothing of Caitlyn’s abilities. There were small coat hangers for herself, her husband and her kids. To the left, there was a kitchen that smelt slightly of one last coffee before bed. Caitlyn led them into the kitchen, allowing Emma and Sarah a moment to look around. The kitchen looked used, nothing like the clean and unrealistic pictures of new houses from a realtor’s catalogue. Some pots lay half drying next to the sink and a glass jar of cookies was filled with crumbs and the leftover thumbprint marks of young children. 

As she inhaled, Emma again had the unmistakable urge to call this place home. She couldn’t figure out why, but Caitlyn’s home felt like hers. 

“Can you I get you ladies something to drink?” Caitlyn asked, already pouring herself one last coffee for the evening.

Sarah politely declined. “Hot chocolate?” Emma asked hopefully. 

“You always did like hot chocolate.” Caitlyn smiled at her, missing the shocked look at Emma’s face entirely. “Just like your mother.”

“Um” Emma began to start to ask what on earth she meant before Caitlyn cut her off again. 

“One moment, Emma.” She smiled comfortingly at her as she boiled milk and broke apart large slabs of chocolate on the counter. “Let me make you some hot chocolate, we will go to the river and then we will talk.”

Emma nodded, content to wait as she watched Caitlyn make her favorite drink. As she finished and handed a cup of hot chocolate to Emma, she inhaled deeply and gestured for them to follow her. They walked out the back door of the house, passing by a messy living room strewn with toys and books and a stairway lined with photos of Caitlyn, her husband and the kids. 

The walk to the river was shorter than Emma had anticipated. It was a hop, skip and a jump from Caitlyn’s back door, down a lawn and then down to a riverbank. Caitlyn sat down on a bench, gesturing for the other two to sit next to her as she murmured under her breath. “Here it is quiet. Here it is safe. Here we speak truth. Here we speak in peace.”

A quiet haze drifted over them, muting the sounds of the outside world. Emma and Sarah both stared at her in unmitigated shock. It was one thing to hear about powerful witches and it was quite another to watch them in action. 

“So, Emma.” Caitlyn began, staring at her intently. “You have just now discovered magic, so you say. What would you say if I were to tell you that we have had this conversation before?” 

Emma’s eyes widened; her worst fears realized. “I…” She started. “I think I would be very angry.” She completed her sentence quietly. 

Caitlyn reached for her. “I can’t restore what someone took away from you. But I can tell you again what I told you the last time you were here and hopefully try to make sure this doesn’t happen again.” 

“That would mean a lot.” Emma looked at Sarah for confidence. 

“And Sarah?” Caitlyn turned her gaze to her. “What are you doing here?” 

Sarah stuttered. “I’m here to help Emma of course.” 

“Really” Caitlyn gently reprimanded.

Sarah’s gaze dropped. “And to get away from home.” She murmured. “But Emma knows all of this already. My husband” She let the last bit of truth go unsaid. “He doesn’t understand.”

“My two sisters.” Caitlyn said darkly. “You have both had to suffer needlessly. Emma, I have the answers you seek and Sarah, this should not have happened to you. Your own mother, Emma, saw your future and saw it intertwined with Sarah’s – so deeply that they couldn’t be separated from each other. I don’t know what your parents were playing at – but clearly they have forgotten the meaning of allowing destiny to go where destiny wishes to go.”

Sarah and Emma looked at each other in surprise, the latter of the two blushing slightly. 

“Could you explain?” Emma asked.

“Let me start.” Caitlyn began, looking powerful in her judgement of Emma’s parents. “With you, Emma. You were born to two powerful witches, your mother and your father. Your mother had a powerful Sight and early on, she understood that you would be too powerful to control as a child. So I, Ariana Kerner and your parents performed a spell to blanket your abilities so that no witch hunter would be able to find you. Does that sound familiar?” 

“Yes” Emma nodded, “We spoke to Ariana, Sarah’s mother, a few weekends ago. She told us that much.” 

Caitlyn hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, so from a young age we always knew that you would be powerful. We also knew that you would have a match in young Sarah. Her magic was more traditional, more old magic but your mother hated that. She only wanted to think of her child as a conduit for her own magic and not that she needed anyone else to help her cast it. Your mother, Sarah, thought it was nonsense but she’s always, excuse my language, has been a bit of a power-hungry bitch”

Emma’s eyes looked at Sarah and then back.

“Which” Sarah could hardly contain herself. “Which explains why my mom was too giddy, suspiciously giddy when she saw Emma cast a spell. She thought that finally we could team up and give her some standing and power.”

Caitlyn nodded. “Exactly. So, Emma’s parents have always tried to keep her away from magic. You’ve only been here once before, Emma – but the amount of times you thought you discovered magic and then your parents shut that down within you is countless. You were here when you were much younger, having run away from home to seek out the most powerful source of magic you could find. That was –“ She let out a wry smile “Me. We talked about your power and you promised that you wouldn’t let it go to waste and would find Sarah. But months past and I never heard from you. With someone with your power, that was almost impossible unless someone forced you to forget.”

“And that was probably my parents” Emma let out a deep sigh. “They never wanted me to be happy, let alone find Sarah. But why… what is so powerful about us teaming up?” 

“Didn’t you wonder how the witch hunter found you in Boston?” Caitlyn asked innocently.

Emma looked surprised but Sarah beat her to the punch. “How do you know about that?” 

Caitlyn smiled. “What witch in the United States doesn’t know about that? It was the closest call any of us have had in a long time. You think it was because of something you cast weeks ago, Emma? No, no. It was your presence together. It creates a kind of static electricity, a powerful spark in a world where so little sparks anymore.” 

Emma and Sarah looked at each other before Emma turned to Caitlyn. “Where does that leave us now? How do we stay safe then in a world that clearly doesn’t want us together?”

The sides of Caitlyn’s mouth twitched up. “Who says that everyone doesn’t want you together?”


	16. Chapter 16

Emma stuttered. “Well, I somewhat assumed given my parents have wiped my memory and that it seems more and more people by the day just don’t want us together.” 

Caitlyn smiled, “It appears you’ve been talking with the wrong people. And of course,” She added as a side note. “There is ample magical lore about two witches teaming up together and changing the supernatural world.”

Sarah groaned, throwing her head into her hands. “There’s always some kind of prophecy in these matters. I hate it.”

“Prophecy?” Caitlyn asked, “No. No prophecy, just lore. That, my dear sister, is the difference between fantasy stories and reality. We don’t have prophecies, we have decades, however, of magical research and visions from witches who have combined their knowledge into a compendium. We don’t consult it often as doing so would mean we would deviate from the path that witches sent us on eons ago but needless to say, I have read parts of the compendium and know what it says.”

She paused, leaving an entry for Emma to break in. “And what does exactly it say?” She asked quietly. “I don’t want to change everything. I just want to control my magic, know its limits and understand where I fit in all of this.” She stretched her arms wide. “It’s a scary thing, being introduced to a culture and people who you somehow fit in but you’ve never heard of before. It’s even scarier to be told that you did know before and that someone repressed that memory of you. I’m… why should I want to stay here and figure it all out? I mean, what gives witches of old the right to tell me what to do with my life?” 

Caitlyn kept her eyes trained on Emma, “That’s the thing, sister.” She said quietly. “It’s not as though these witches are trying to force you to change everything. Lore is just a guidebook and a way for us to keep track of what could happen. I could quote a certain Headmaster.” Her mouth quirked. “It is our choices, Harry, that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities.” 

Emma smiled. “I do love a good Harry Potter quote.” She admitted. “And I also believe in it that choices are important but when you tell me that magical lore from eons ago is telling me that Sarah and I are meant to do so many important things. I mean, it’s terrifying.”

Caitlyn nodded. “Of course, it is.”

“But” Sarah cut in, staring at Emma, “It doesn’t mean we have to do it. I think we can if we want to, but we could also just go back to our normal lives.” She looked a bit sad. “If that’s what you want.” 

Emma thought quietly for a moment. Did she want to go back to how things were before? Did she want to live her life as a quiet UX designer in her brownstone with Jingles? Did she value this path more than Harry? Could she have it all? Her heart told her that despite what she wanted to think, she couldn’t have it all.

“If” She started and then stopped. “If this was something Sarah and I decided,” And she reached over to grip Sarah’s hand fiercely. “Because it is a joint decision. What would happen to the rest of our lives? Could I have my cake and eat it too?” 

Caitlyn shrugged. “I don’t have the Sight. I wouldn’t know but I think that you do. Much as you want to admit it, you know that there are choices and with every choice, you leave something behind.”

“And I’m just supposed to make this choice?” Emma asked a bit desperately. “Just now?” 

Both Sarah and Caitlyn laughed. “Oh Em.” Sarah choked out throughout her giggles. “You don’t know anything about witches. They take absolute ages to decide on anything. It’s one of our defining traits.”

Emma had the decency to blush. “Well I mean, I didn’t know that. But it’s good to know I have some time.” 

“You are” Caitlyn offered. “Of course, welcome to stay in Boulder but I think you know that staying here only delays the inevitable and it makes it easier to choose one way over the other.” 

“Because the other isn’t here standing in our face.” Emma continued wisely. “Of course. I think I’ve always known that this trip was just going to help me figure out something quintessential. And” She paused. “In a way, it has. I mean, I don’t know what I’m going to do yet but at least I know more than when I arrived.”

Sarah opened her mouth. “But what about training. You still need to know what your limits are, Emma. Surely Caitlyn could help you with that.”

Caitlyn smiled. “I could.” She countered. “But somehow I think you know what your limits are, Emma.”

“But she needs the proper –“Sarah started.

“Are all magics like one another?” Caitlyn questioned, turning her attention to Sarah. “Do you think your limits and Emma’s are the same?” 

Sarah looked abashed. “I just want to make sure that Emma doesn’t hurt herself by doing something too big without backup.”

Caitlyn looked at them both. “She has you” She said simply. “From a brief scan of her magic, I can tell that there are… well, there are limits, but they are more instinctual. For example, Emma, would you know better than to wish that it rained in Boston every day for a year?” 

Emma looked offended. “Of course.”

“And would you wish that the President of the United States would be killed?” 

Emma looked hopeful. “I would think about it ultimately… it would cause too many things to go out of whack.”

“See” Caitlyn turned to Sarah. “It’s not like your magic, Sarah. She doesn’t have a storage of energy that could be overwhelmed if you asked for something that match your strength. Instead, Emma’s magic and her control over it are asking these kinds of questions. Is the thing possible? That is not relevant as much as asking should the thing be done? Is it right? Will it cause irreversible changes down the road? These are the kinds of issues that you need to debate and talk about amongst yourself. That’s your job, Sarah, in this partnership. You have to talk with Emma, make sure she knows is the thing right? Make that distinction between emotions and honesty. Magic is different for us all, and for Emma especially. You have to trust yourself, her magic, your own and your reasoning.” 

Sarah looked thoughtful. “I suppose you’re right.” She bowed her head. “I just get a bit caught up in my worries is all.”

“And that” Caitlyn smiled. “Is what makes you a good friend and partner.” 

Sarah smiled and looked at Emma, who was looking at her smiling shyly. “I feel very lucky to have Emma.” She confessed. “Life was… life was not exactly going as I thought it would before that.” 

Emma reached over and hugged her gently. “But now, you’ve got me” And she smiled. “And you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I mean… I kind of need you so I don’t blow everyone up.”

“You’re giving me responsibility fever” Sarah retorted before bursting into laughter. 

“Before it gets too late” Caitlyn stood. “It’s been too long since I had a nice dance out in the moonlight with witch sisters from other places.”

“But” Emma interrupted. “What about making sure that no one takes away my memories again? Can I even get back the ones I lost?” 

Caitlyn shook her sadly. “Unfortunately, not. I can’t get those back for you. But what I can do is make sure it doesn’t happen again. Just come over here.” 

Emma stood, and closed her eyes as Caitlyn placed both her hands directly on Emma’s temples. The two women were silent for a moment before Emma let out a stifled gasp. Sarah had to control her reflex to jump forward and grab her. Frowning Sarah sat back. She had never known herself to be so invested in someone like this before. Of course, there was Mark but that hadn’t been real love for such a long time. It had been… Sarah didn’t want to say abusive, but she had stayed with him for comfort’s sake rather than actually wanting to love him and care for him. 

Since she had met up with Emma again, things had been different. She had grown up in a fairly heteronormative household. Of course, witches had always been open to relationships of all colors and shapes, but Sarah had always thought she was more normal than not. But then again, Sarah considered, she had never really explored any other side to her. But now that she was here with Emma, things felt different, somehow easier and less forced. 

Just then, Emma opened her eyes looking immensely more relaxed. “How are you feeling?” Sarah asked quickly, kicking herself a second later for seeming too eager. 

Emma smiled at her, blushing slightly for some indescribable reason. “I’m fine.” For some reason Sarah couldn’t pinpoint, Emma’s blush felt more important than that paltry statement.


	17. Chapter 17

After leaving Caitlyn’s house, Sarah and Emma wandered back to their Airbnb in a state of stunned shock. Emma was lost within her own head. She couldn’t stop thinking about all of the new information that she had to download from Caitlyn. She was super powerful? She and Sarah could change the world if they wanted to? It all felt like it was too much. As they both sat across from one another in the living room of the cozy apartment, Emma looked at up to see Sarah staring at her knowingly. 

“Freaking out?” Sarah looked casual as she said the words, giving Emma a slight smile even while she was wringing her hands. 

Emma smiled back wryly. She should have known that Sarah would be good at handling people who were undergoing stress in their lives. After all, that was in the job description of being a psychologist. “A bit.” She admitted. “I’m just struggling with how to process all of this information.” 

Sarah leaned forward and for once, Emma could see how she was so good at her job. Whether she knew it or not, Sarah’s face and body language shone with empathy. Her eyes stared straight at Emma while she exuded acceptance. “Shall we do what we did the last time this happened?” Even though the statement was funny at first glance, there was no humor in Sarah’s voice.

“You mean pretend like this is just a story?” 

Sarah simply nodded, letting Emma decide whether she thought that would be productive. After a moment, Emma let out a deep breath, her hands grasping and clasping at air meaninglessly. Without trusting herself to speak, she leaned forward and nodded. “Could I have a hug first though?” 

Immediately standing up, Sarah made her way to the opposite side of the room and sat down next to Emma, engulfing her in a close hug. Without meaning to, Emma burst into tears, clutching onto Sarah’s arms, feeling some of the stress release as she clung tightly to Sarah. She was just so frustrated with everything. Every time she thought she had something figured out, another issue seemed to just as quickly arise and take its place. So great, she had found out about her power and why at least it seemed as though her parents had kept so much of this from her. 

But at the same time, it also opened up so many questions. Why did they feel a need to always keep this from her? Why had they wiped her memory? What did lore have to do with anything? Before this internal monologue could get away from her, Sarah’s voice broke the silence. 

“It’s going to be okay, Em” she soothed her gently, rubbing her back in calming repetitive motions. “Trust me. I promise we’ll get through this together.” There was something about that, Emma reflected internally, that made her feel safe and loved. Even though Sarah hadn’t been the closest of friends in her life, she felt different. The way Emma noticed her was different. She had just never chosen to look at it that way before. But, she considered, would she have felt the same way if Harry had been here? Would she feel this supported? Gulping, she didn’t want to entertain that thought but deep down, she knew that answer was no. 

Pushing herself back, she laughed snottily as Sarah immediately had a pack of tissues ready for her. “You know” She said matter-of-factly. “You have cried all over my brand-new sweater. I mean really, how inconsiderate of you.” 

Emma laughed, feeling some of the stress again lift from her shoulders. As she cleaned herself up and dabbed some of the tears off of Sarah’s sweater without any kind of success, she thought again about her question.

“Okay” She said, trying to clear her throat. “Okay, so let’s handle the question. Let’s look at this through the lens of a fantasy story.” 

“Right. So, the last time we spoke in this lens” Sarah reminded her, “Was when we got to the point where you wanted to be proactive. So, we went to Boulder, we’ve seen another wise woman. What does a story say comes next?” 

Emma thought. “Well” She started hesitantly. “I wouldn’t call this another wise woman per say. Of course, we did see Caitlyn – but it opened up more questions than answers and this feels like more of a turning point in the story than a wise woman information entry point if you know what I mean?” 

Sarah shook her head. “I don’t, could you explain it to me?” 

“In stories, there are moments where you talk to a wise woman or character on the hero’s journey and they provide you with information. Think Gandalf with the One Ring at the very beginning of Lord of the Rings and Dumbledore in Harry Potter when he tells him about Horcruxes. But there are other turning points that come with a wise woman initiates change in the story. You think about Elrond in Rivendell when they form the Fellowship. Of course, he gave them information, but that information led to a huge change in the plot. This feels more to me like the latter.” 

Sarah nodded slowly. “That makes sense to me. Let’s indeed say then that this is where we are, and you want to move forward. What’s the play?” 

Emma hummed. “I mean, I don’t know many stories where the hero decides not to do the journey but I’m just… I’m scared. Everything will change and I don’t think I’ll be able to hold onto the things I’m used to.”

“But isn’t change just neutral?” Sarah asked. “Change isn’t necessarily good or bad. It just is, and we decide how we want to interpret that. Were you scared when you went to college or when you bought a cat? Those things also changed your perception of the world, no?”

Emma conceded. “You have a point. Change is just change, I’m just always a bit nervous when things change so suddenly. I know that it’s okay and that no matter what I choose, things will end up being normal but it’s…” She paused. “I just feel like I was close to achieving this kind of normalcy that I thought I wanted my whole life. I thought I wanted a happy relationship with Harry or some other guy like him and a cat and a steady job doing something I’m relatively good at. But more and more, that’s not what I want. At least it’s not what I think life has allotted me for a destiny. I mean tonight and coming here with you, I have felt so alive and excited to do things.” Left unsaid was that even if Harry had come, Emma thought, something would have been missing. “I want things to change but I’m also scared.”

“Did you know,” Sarah asked after a moment, “That most of my clients, well shit, everyone in life, has this same problem. They want to do things and then they are hindered by something. Maybe it’s a mental issue, maybe it’s physical but there’s something holding them back. The one thing I can do is help you figure out whether you’re going to let something like fear or anger hold you back. If so, we can come up with coping strategies if but you actually want something, then you know inside that you can get through the fear and worry that you’re experiencing right now.” 

Emma smiled. “I knew there was a reason my best friend was a psychologist.” 

“I’m your best friend?” Sarah asked, her cheeks pink. 

Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course! Who else have I told about this situation to? Who else do I trust with my life like this?” 

“I thought it was just because I’m the only other witch you knew” Sarah said quietly. 

Emma reached forward and grabbed her shoulders. “Sarah.” She said very seriously. “You are talking complete and utter nonsense. I trust you. You are my best friend. I care about you very much.” Even as they exchanged a hug, Emma found herself wondering how much she did care about Sarah. Was it more than she was telling even herself? 

“Now you’re distracting me!” Sarah laughed. “We were talking about change. What comes next?” 

Emma looked at Sarah, wondering how much of her feelings right now were caught up in her own thoughts about their shared destiny. She wondered just how much was appropriate to care, what was not okay since Sarah was married and she was very much in a relationship with Harry and after all, she had never even explored that kind of relationship before. 

“I think” she said slowly, “It’s important to take this one day at a time. We can’t solve all the problems in one go. But what we can do is talk to my parents. If we go to their place in Vermont when we both have some time off again, I can get the full story from them., figure out why she wants us not to be… er work together.”

Sarah nodded, but paused. “But do you think I should be there? I mean Em, your parents obviously have a bone to pick with me. If I’m there, I don’t want that to damage the relationship you have with your parents.”

“What is there left to damage?” Emma said without any anger. “They wiped my memory, Sarah. They took away a friendship that could have meant our lives would have both been so much happier and fuller than they already were. It’s not done, but it’s so damaged right now that anything you do won’t have that adverse of an impact.”

“You’re sure?” Sarah pressed.

“I’m sure.” Emma agreed. “Our friendship, and hell our partnership is important. And as partners we have to have each other’s backs.”

Sarah let out a small smile. “Okay, so we figure out the situation with your parents. What are you going to do about Harry?”

“Who said anything about Harry?” Emma hastily asked, drawing herself up.

Sarah gave her a look. “Oh, come on. As if it hasn’t been immensely obvious since we got here.” Emma’s heart sped up but then Sarah continued. “You care about him deeply but as a brother. You like his company because he makes you feel safe and supported in a normal way rather than a witchy way. This relationship that you have is completely against what you’re trying to achieve.” 

Emma felt conflicted. On one hand, she wanted to deny everything. She wanted to tell Sarah that she wasn’t sure how to feel about any relationships, let alone hers and Harrys. But on the other, she didn’t want to keep pretending. She felt safe with Harry, that was true, but it was because before this whole witch reveal came to light, she thought he was unrelated to it all. Now that he was, a lot of that attraction had dimmed. 

“So?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah” Emma looked away. “You’re right. I mean I do care about him but now that I know he’s just as involved in this as we are. I… I don’t want to discriminate but so much of the reason we were together was because he was separate in all of this. And I wanted to keep that but now that I know he’s a witch, I don’t know why I’m maintaining it. I suppose I just have to let him off easy.” 

Sarah again laughed. “You’re killing me, Em. I’m sure Harry, while a sweetheart, is not stupid. He’s picked up on why you are with him. I’m sure he also sees this coming a mile away. Just take a deep breath. It will be okay.”

Emma again looked at Sarah taking a deep breath. She wasn’t quite ready to go back to their normal life, but at least now, she felt more ready to take on the Harry issue. With that out of the way, she would be able to focus on figuring out how far she wanted to take this witch destiny and walk along her hero’s journey.


	18. Chapter 18

As they returned back to Boston, Emma didn’t initially think that she had the strength to find her parents. After finding out so much information about her magical abilities as well as her partnership with Sarah, she didn’t think she could see them without being overwhelmingly furious at them for keeping such an information part of her life from her. But as the days passed and she found herself in as normal a routine as she could be in when she was constantly worried about witch hunters, the local coven and when and how to break things off with Harry, that fear of confronting her parents lessened.

She was, after all, an adult with her own boundaries and life. She couldn’t let someone control how she felt, even if it was her own parents. But as she constantly trying to avoid that subject, she ended up dealing with Harry first. 

This came with its own set of problems because Emma really liked Harry. She liked the way he smiled at her, the way he talked to her but ultimately, she wasn’t in love with him. And now that much of the normalcy fallacy had swept the rug out from under her, it was harder to justify their ongoing relationship. She couldn’t tell if he also got the same feeling as her but as with everything, she knew she just had to confront him and be honest. The long-awaited conversation finally happened on a rainy Saturday. Emma had invited Harry over for a movie and dinner. Although she hadn’t intended on that day being the day, she could sense that it was reaching that now-or-never time. She surveyed him over a glass of wine, wondering if he could sense where she wanted to go.

“So, Harry” She began a bit nervously, “there’s been something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” 

He looked at her, doe-eyed and curious. “Go ahead” He gestured, “I’m all ears.”

Emma opened her mouth and then closed it again. Despite the fact that she had been thinking about this moment for a few days, she found that she hadn’t really found the exact words to say. “Well, I’ve been thinking about us. And I… I really value you in my life but I’m not sure I’m… that is to say, I don’t feel the same way about you that I think you do and that I did. This is coming out so weirdly. But what I mean to say is do you know what I mean?” 

She felt a bit desperate looking at him, hoping that he understood the word vomit for what it was. Luckily, she was rewarded with a warm smile. “I think I do, Emma.” He looked at her gently. “I really care about you to and I would love to stay friends but this” And he gestured again at the space between them, “This is something we needed in the moment to grab at something normal. I wanted something non-witchy. You wanted something non-witchy. And yet here we are, two witches playing house together as though we’re completely and utterly normal. But I think we both know that that isn’t a long-term solution.”

Emma let out a sigh of relief. “You know” she said conversationally, “I was so nervous about talking to you about this, because I was worried that you’d see it as all too sudden and that everything had changed on that trip to Boulder. I don’t want to get the idea that I don’t like you because you’re a witch. I think that’s such an amazing part of you, Harry. I think you have the most amazing magical gift and I don’t want you to shut that down because of me.”

Harry laughed, “Trust me, I won’t be. But if we’re being honest, you know that things have changed for you when you went to Boulder. You learned a lot of things about yourself. I’m not saying you should tell me everything because it’s your prerogative and I know that some things, you have to keep to yourself. But for honesty’s sake, it’s okay to change.” 

“You know” Emma laughed, “Sarah and I were just talking about that.” 

“Ahh, Sarah.” Harry winked suggestively. “You know I know you and I are no longer as of five minutes ago together, but as your close friend – keep that one close. You both make each other laugh and happy and I think in the end, that’s the most important thing we can do for one another.” 

Emma blushed and denied it. “I don’t know what you mean. But er anyways, thank you for being so understanding. I was so worried this would be a terrible conversation.” 

“What can I say” Harry shrugged, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile. “You can be a bit transparent, Emma. I’ve been noticing you hesitating with something ever since you came back. Since we both knew a large part of our pull to one another was the normalness of each other and that had just been taken out of the equation, I thought it was only a matter of time. That’s not to say I don’t love you and care about you as a friend, but I was ready for it.”

“Would you have said something if I hadn’t?” Emma asked curiously

He thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe? I feel like I can always be or not be in a relationship and I’m comfortable regardless so I suppose I would have stayed for a while and then eventually said something.” 

“You’re comfortable in or out? That’s odd.”

He snorted. “It’s only odd if you think it is. Look, I like spending time with people, I like the close physical nature of a relationship so that’s always in its favor. But I also love myself. I love being alone and being single allows me to revel in that status.” 

Emma also paused for a second in deep thought. “Yeah” She agreed. “I can see that. That’s a super healthy way to think about being with someone. I remember reading those romantic books as a child and wondering how healthy any of those relationships depicted in the books could be when they talked about being only one half of a whole. Like I think relationships are nice, don’t get me wrong but you should be happy with yourself first before bringing someone else into the equation.”

Harry toasted her with his wine glass. “Exactly. Sort of like couples who get a dog or a baby as though adding a factor will solve their problems.”

Emma shuddered. “Those are people I will never understand.”

As they both broke into laughter, she glanced at him. It was nice to feel as though she had a friend in Harry even if they weren’t serious about the future anymore. If she was being honest, she did value his friendship dearly and his magic but that expectation of living in a white picket home with 2.5 kids and a dog had never felt further away than it did now. No, Emma thought to herself. Her life felt like a long and extended adventure that could go any number of ways. She couldn’t allow herself to think about normalcy right now, not when it felt like anything could burst into flames at any given moment. 

The rest of the evening felt comfortable and even though they both gave each other their physical space, it felt easy to revert back to their friendship. As he left, he gave Emma a warm hug. 

“Stay safe, Emma.” He whispered before sweeping out into the night. She was left standing at her door, wondering and hoping that she had made the right decision. Just as she closed the door and began to clean up the kitchen, her thoughts strayed, did she need a relationship right now? Or did she finally need some space? Before Harry, she had been floating along, doing the friends with benefits and no connection nonsense for years. Netflix and chill didn’t seem to be what she wanted though. No. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted something more emotional than physical. She wanted someone who would be there for her in good and bad times and she wanted someone who was willing and able to undertake this journey with her. Ignoring her inner voices who very insistently said it knew exactly to whom she was referring, she firmly told herself that she would focus on the magic, the adventure and most of all the way forward. Relationships were the least of her worries right now and she didn’t want them to rise to the forefront. 

Over the next few days, Emma found herself drifting back into old routines. Still brutally ignoring her parents, she focused on work, meeting up with Sarah for drinks and visiting Boston’s magical library. She knew that she likely wouldn’t find any information about her particular kind of magic, but she still wanted to know more about this world that she had been so unpleasantly forced in. What was the lore? Where could she get an unbiased account of where things went wrong with witch hunters? Was there such a thing? Did peer review exist in the magical world? 

It was on one of these visits to the library to find this information that she ran into Theresa. The warm librarian murmured “Blessed Be” as Emma walked up to her. Emma smiled.

“Blessed Be Theresa. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.” 

Theresa beamed. “Of course. That’s what I’m here for. Ask away my dear.” 

“Well,” Emma paused for breath. “I’m curious about Bostonian witch history. I’ve been told about the whole situation with witch hunters and the local witch coven, but surely that must be common across the world? Or is it special in Boston? I was also curious about unbiased accounts of history. It seems like most everything would be skewed when it comes to witches if only witches are writing about them so I’m curious about that and about peer review.”

Theresa raised her eyebrows. “Well to be short, peer review is a thing in magical society, so rest assured some of the more science and academic-related texts have been reviewed before publication. As to your other questions… Boston is a unique place in witch history and has a particularly nasty history between witch hunters and witches.”

“What kind of particular history?” Emma interrupted, reddening as Theresa stared at her, thoroughly unimpressed. “Sorry” She added hastily

“Hm.” Theresa huffed. “Well this history is very sensitive because of the Salem witch trials of course but Boston in particular has always been the source of unrest. During the Boston Tea Party, witches and witch hunters worked together but that was when magic was not as forbidden as it grew to be during the 1800s and 1900s. It seems like most everyone here has forgotten that cooperation is possible. And then of course Boston also experienced a lot of unrest during the World Wars. Many of the hunters believed that witches would be working with the Germans. Do you know why that is?”

Emma shook her head.

“It was because witches are often believed to have originated in Europe” Theresa continued. “It’s an erroneous belief of course. We don’t know where magic came from but from what I’ve read as an academic, it comes from every culture, every continent and country without any restriction of class, place or time. But many of these hunters believed that magic was poisonous and must have come from Germany. This led to an extremely bloody time in Boston. It is not recorded in prosaic history, but it was one of the most solemn times in witch history. Hunters planned raids and did everything they could to try and apprehend as many witches as possible.”

“And when you say apprehend.” Emma asked hesitantly. “You mean kill.”

Theresa nodded. “I do. They would kill as many witches as they could find. It didn’t matter if they were men, women, the elderly or children. They seemed to think it was their god given right to slaughter us and wipe us from the history books. But then on one such raid, a child was killed. This wasn’t odd, there were many accidental deaths and civilian casualties from these battles but what was odd was that it was a witch hunters child.”  
“Why was that so odd?” Emma asked curiously. “Surely it had happened before?” 

Theresa considered, “Well yes and no. Witch hunters have always been overly protective of their children as they have generally believed witches receive their power from the devil. They see their children as vulnerable to its influence, so some extremist witch groups have kidnapped their children in the past and done horrible things to try and get back at these hunters, which of course only fuels the fight between them. But this was different because the child was the daughter of their general, Henry Adams. Henry Adams was… well, he was not a kind man, but he was a family man. When he found out that he or one of his lieutenants had killed his own child in a rage – he immediately stopped the raids and called a moratorium of all witch hunting. He approached the head of the local coven, a woman by the name of Tanya Burstein, and they negotiated a truce. No more visible magic for no raids. Take the witches in the darkness and there will be no more killing. Let us not have children pay for the sins of their parents.” She finished a bit bitterly.

“You don’t seem like you agree.” Emma remarked.

Theresa shifted uncomfortably. “It was necessary for the fighting to stop but now we have been forced into the shadows. I hate that people do not know about magic. It is, in my opinion, a gift.” 

“I can understand that.” Emma smiled. “Thank you for telling me all this. I’m just trying to find my place in the world and this helps.”

“If you want to speak to someone further” Theresa said quietly. “You won’t find all of the materials here. This is a great library but it is censored as all libraries are. You’ll have to go straight to the source. There is a historian by the name of Hilda Nottingham. No, she is not from England before you ask. Find her and you’ll get more answers.”

“Where can I find her?” Emma asked, committing the name to memory. 

Theresa leaned close. “You will have to talk to Sarah about that. Tell her that I said she will have to wait until the veil is thinnest and then reach out. Only then can she hear you and others will not have a chance to eavesdrop.”

Emma looked at Theresa as though she was crazy. “Um okay.” She raised her eyebrows. “I’ll tell her you said that and hopefully she understands more of that than I do.” 

The homely librarian looked serious. “She will.”


	19. Chapter 19

As Emma woke up comfortably nestled between warm sheets and soft blankets, her eyes immediately caught a glimpse of white snow from her bedroom window. She threw off her sheets without a second thought as to how cold the air would be, letting out an ungainly shriek of horror, before rushing over to the window to glance out onto the street. Boston was beautiful in the winter, its dark brownstones and skyline appearing as though dusted with a sprinkling of powdered sugar. Last night, the forecast hadn’t predicted snow, but sure enough as Emma turned on the radio, she heard the inevitable canceling of public schools. 

“Waltham Public School, Somerville Public School, Boston Local” the broadcaster called out as he rattled off more names from the list of schools opening two hours later and as the snow continued, later closing the schools altogether. 

As the snow danced tantalizingly outside, Emma wrapped herself up in a warm and fuzzy robe, slipping on a pair of slippers and wandered down to the kitchen, wishing that her kitchen floor would be the slightest touch warmer than the rest of the house. As she reached the downstairs, she let out a smile. Oh, the wonders of practicing just the smallest bit of magic. On the first snow of the year, Emma always made a few pieces of French Toast just as her mother made it. Although thinking about her mother gave her a bittersweet pang of homesickness, she still went through the calming process. She mixed two eggs together, whisking until the yolks and whites were indistinguishable from another. Then she took out a frozen piece of challah that she had been waiting to use until this very moment. Maybe it was ridiculous, but Emma had always had the tradition of buying a freshly baked piece of challah at some point in November and freezing it for this very moment. Cutting off two large pieces, she set them in the pre-heated oven to defrost. At the ping of the oven, she took out the two soft pieces and dunked them generously in the egg mixture before mixing together a spoonful of cinnamon and sugar onto an empty plate. Placing the bread on the plate to ensure that enough cinnamon and sugar coated the pieces, she simultaneously turned on the burner, and dropped a knob of butter. 

A few minutes later, the butter began to sizzle, releasing the familiar smell of a breakfast that Emma almost always had on every single snow day during her childhood. As she dropped the pieces of challah on, that sweet smell also began to waft around the kitchen. Letting out a comfortable sigh, she turned on her noisy coffee machine, smiling as Jingles entered the kitchen and meowed at her plaintively for his own breakfast. 

“How could I forget you, Jingles?” she asked rhetorically, reaching down to give him a few strokes. 

As she fed him, she flipped the pieces of by now deliciously browned slices of challah and slid them onto her waiting plate. With a massive dollop of maple syrup, she smiled in satisfaction at the breakfast she had created. Even with the tinge of bittersweet nostalgia, Emma found that she was perfectly happy to keep up her family tradition just for herself. She tucked into her breakfast, moaning as the sweet scent and smell of cinnamon and sugar hit her senses. A few mind-numbingly pleasant moments passed as she devoured it thoroughly. 

Just as she was sitting back in her chair, comfortably full, her phone beeped, signaling a text message from Sarah. With a smile on her face, Emma reached over to read the message. 

Sarah [08:30]: Morning! Just wondering if we are still planning on meeting later because of the snow. Most of my clients have canceled today so I have most of the day free

Although her job didn’t really require any kind of travel or snow allowance, what was nice for Emma was that she really didn’t have to have set hours. So long as she got the job done before the client’s deadline, she was in the clear. Luckily, she had been working on such a project for the past few days and had finished it late last night. 

Emma [08:32]: Sure! Come over whenever. I have some free time today. Actually, there’s something I want to talk with you about – just wait until the roads are clear and be safe!

After shooting back that message, Emma hopped over to the living room to finish some last-minute touches on her project before Sarah came over. Sarah lived decently enough far away that it would take her at least an hour for the roads to be cleared and for her to drive carefully over. Just enough time for her to finish a few things and enjoy the solitude of the first snow day of winter. 

Because there was something just so pleasant and calming about the winter months, Emma thought to herself. She had always loved the snow, the cold and the cozy introvert aspect that winter seemed to bring out in her and for that matter, most people. As she sat comfortably wrapped up in her robe, she thought back to the library and her conversation with Theresa. She wondered what Sarah would have to say about that. Emma’s immediate thought had gone to Halloween, which she truly hoped was not the case. It was early December and waiting until October would mean waiting almost a year before contacting this historian. She didn’t know why but for some reason, there was something itchy about the topic of witch hunters.

The whole idea of two opposing clans in one city was very Romeo and Juliet – very Shakespearian. In other words, it was maddeningly unlikely. It felt all too convenient for Emma. She hoped that Sarah would agree with her.

A few hours later, Emma’s doorbell rang, and she rushed over to be greeted with the face of her good friend Sarah. Sarah’s hair was drawn back in a ponytail and she was wearing a winter headband that covered her ears. Her nose was bright red with cold and she had already changed into her typical warm coat perfect for Boston winters. Little pieces of snow glinted in her hair and on her eyelashes, which sparkled as she smiled. 

“Come in, come in!” Emma gestured into the house and Sarah nearly bowled her over trying to get inside.

As she was taking off her winter clothing, Sarah shivered. “It’s really cold out there.”

“Do you want a cup of coffee, tea, hot chocolate?” 

She smiled. “I’ll have a cup of hot chocolate if you don’t mind. It seems like the perfect weather for that kind of drink. And the one you made up at my mom’s place in Salem looked practically decadent.” 

Emma gave her a brief hug. “One of those coming right up! Feel free to grab whatever you want out of the pantry as well – there’s a lot of food right now. I just had this feeling that I would need to stock up on food last week and it turns out I was right!” 

“Well I’m not complaining.” Sarah said, reaching into her cupboards. “So, what is it you wanted to talk about?” 

Emma hesitated as she heated up the milk for hot chocolate. “Well, I first wanted to tell you that I broke up with Harry.” 

“Oh Em!” Sarah reached over and hugged her. “That must have been difficult. How did he take it?” 

“I think it actually went really well!” She smiled. “He seemed to know that we had an expiration date so to speak. We both went into that relationship because we wanted a sense of normalcy to weigh out the craziness in each of our respective lives. So, once we each knew the other was a witch and going through our own crazy stuff, it seemed a bit pointless. But thank goodness, we ended on good terms and are going to stay friends.”

Sarah let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I was a bit worried that it would end in you going on one of your famous benders.”

“Hey!” Emma teased. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never gone on a bender in my life!”

Sarah did not look convinced. “Uh huh. Sure. What about freshman year of college? Oh, and then sophomore and senior as well. Every time you’ve gotten out of a serious relationship that didn’t go as planned; you have gone on at least a month bender where you just went around having sex with everyone in sight. It was completely and utterly ridiculous.” 

“I read somewhere,” Emma said conversationally, “That it takes half the time of the relationship to get over it, so to speak.” 

“And you’re talking me you were in these serious relationships for two months?” 

Emma blushed. “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it. But no, this time I’m not doing that?”

“Why?” Sarah asked curiously. “Not that I think it isn’t much healthier for you to do things this way, but what changed?”

Emma shrugged. “I think that I want something more emotional. Whenever I would go on these benders, I would end up feeling more shit after than I did during the actual breakup. I would just end up feeling empty and unsure about where I stood. And with Harry, it didn’t feel like a breakup really. It felt like we just had a conversation, and both came out better understanding where we were and what we thought our relationship with one another is.”

“A friendship is still a relationship.” Sarah remarked before pausing. “I’m happy things turned out that way”

Emma handed Sarah her hot chocolate, smiling. “Me too. But there was something else I wanted to talk with you about.”

Sarah only hummed in response, busy with her hot chocolate. “Okay.” Emma continued laughing. “I visited the library again recently. I’ve been doing it a lot, just reading around, seeing people and exploring and I got to chatting with Theresa again. We were talking a lot about Bostonian magical history. I’ve been curious about the whole witch hunters versus witches situation for some time now. It just seems like it’s so black and white and of course, those things never are. So, I asked, and she told me about Henry Adams and Tanya Burstein but she only told me the bare bones of the story and mentioned that the library was actually censored.”

That phrase caused Sarah to look up sharply. “Censored? I can’t believe that the Boston library would be censored. What’s the point of having a library at all if it’s censored?”

Emma shrugged, leaning back against the countertop. “I’m not sure. But she did tell me this. She said that there was historian I could contact that would give me more information but that I had to talk to you about it. She said you will have to wait until the veil is thinnest and then reach out. Only then can she hear you and others will not have a chance to eavesdrop.”

Sarah groaned, throwing her face in her hands. “Oh god. What a pain. I haven’t had to do that in what feels like centuries and even then, it hasn’t been long enough.”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, leaning forward this time. “I had no idea what she meant.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “It’s a very old and traditional way of contacting a witch if you only know her name. It’s actually where the tradition of demon summoning came from. Because most other communication methods like mail can be detected and intercepted, witches wanted to come up with a better way of communicating with one another. It actually was really popular during the French resistance during the Second World War. Essentially, you just need to put together a ritual, the works. We’ll do a small fire; I’ll say some words and then we’ll say her name and a message for her. You can do it on any night technically, but the only way that you can be sure that no one will hear if you do it on a special night when the veil is thinnest between worlds.”

“I thought of Halloween” Emma interrupted. “But if that’s true we’ll have to wait almost a whole year.”

“If you’d let me finish” Sarah laughed. “Yes of course Halloween, or Samhain as it’s known in witch culture, is one such day but you can do it on solstices as well – any of Winter, Spring, Fall and Summer and on other days like Passover. I can’t remember all of them but there’s a fair few that you can use. The wording varies for each one but it’s essentially the same.”

Emma did some quick calculations in her head while tapping her fingers gently on the kitchen counter. “Isn’t the winter solstice in a few weeks?” 

Sarah nodded, sipping her hot chocolate. “Yes, we can use that. What’s this historian’s name?” 

“Hilda Nottingham” Emma supplied. “I did some googling but I’ve never heard of her.”

Sarah’s brow furrowed. “I haven’t heard of her either and I’m pretty well versed in witch academia. She must really be censored. I wonder why.”

“Maybe she knows something that would make the witches look bad?” Emma guessed

“Could be” Sarah shrugged. “I can’t think of what it would be. I mean, I like to think I’m a fairly critical thinker, but I can’t imagine anything that would exonerate the witch hunters from what they’ve done to the community.”

“Hey” Emma ribbed her slightly. “Keep an open mind. We don’t know until know.” 

“Was there anything else especially witchy you wanted to chat about, or can we just curl up on your couch and watch some peak winter films with a bowl of popcorn and chocolate?” Sarah asked teasingly.

Emma laughed, gesturing to the couch where she had put a bowl of some chocolate and popcorn. The pair of them then sat on the couch, curling up together under her warm fleece blanket. 

“There is nothing like your hot chocolate and snacks.” Sarah said gratefully, as they snuggled up.

Emma smiled. “I appreciate that. So, what do you want to watch?” 

Sarah shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. Home alone?” 

Emma looked at the television with a sneaky smile before turning on the monitor. There loaded and ready to play was Home alone. Sarah stared open-mouthed at the television.

“What? How did you? That’s impossible!”

Emma laughed, this time almost spilling the popcorn, only stopping at Sarah’s hasty expression of oh god please don’t spill that. “No,” she corrected. “That’s a Star Wars quote – get your fandoms right!” 

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Let’s just watch the movie.” And then the two of them moved closer, Emma ignoring the urge to snuggle even closer than was… shall we say… appropriate for two friends and simply enjoyed that she could be here with Sarah, enjoying one of her favorite days of the year in peace.


	20. Chapter 20

Over the next few weeks, Sarah and Emma spent more and more time together. Although the actual ritual didn’t require too much work on Emma’s behalf, she felt because she was asking Sarah to do so much work for her – she could at least be there. It was during this time that she finally got a look at Sarah and Mark’s relationship and for the record, she was not pleased about it. 

When Mark and Sarah had gotten married, she hadn’t really seen the man much. He had been laughing and smiling along with most of the wedding party and although she had flashed him a congratulatory smile with a raise of her champagne class, she hadn’t really gotten a good read on him. Now that she was a witch, it was all the more interesting to observe their interactions. As far as Sarah had informed Emma, Mark was aware that the both of them were witches. She also knew that he didn’t particularly like witchcraft. He saw it almost as a genetic mutation that, with work, people could control to ensure that they fit in with the general normalcy of everyone around them. 

It was one thing to hear about that from Sarah and it was another thing entirely to experience it herself. Since they had started on their witch research, most of their meetings had been at Emma’s apartment or out and about in the city. When Emma had eventually broached the subject of meeting at Sarah’s house, her friend had gone a bit red.

“Well….” She dawdled, staring at her feet. “Mark wouldn’t be particularly pleased about it.”

Emma shrugged. “Couldn’t we meet during the day when he isn’t home? Not that I don’t mind having you at my place, Sarah. But what is the whole issue about helping me at your place? Surely Mark doesn’t mind?” 

Sarah looked uncomfortable. “I told you, Em. Mark doesn’t like magic. He seems it as something wrong with you. Almost like an extra Y or X chromosome. As though it’s something to be fixed.”

“So then, what have you been telling him about me?” Emma scratched her head in perplexation. “Doesn’t he know you’ve been helping me figure all of this out?” 

“Er, not exactly.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I told you, it’s… complicated. I told him that I’m helping you suppress a lot of your powers because you wanted to fit in. I didn’t want him to get in the way or cause any trouble.”

Emma raised her eyebrows, thoroughly unimpressed at her friend. “So, you’re lying to your husband because you don’t want him to tell you not to meet with me?” 

Sarah weakly nodded. “That’s the long and short of it.”

After that conversation, Emma hadn’t brought it up in a while. She didn’t want to pressure Sarah to be forced to lie in front of Mark more than she already was. But there was something really unpleasant about the thought that poor Sarah was having to reside in this relationship. What kind of partner, she wondered, would want to suppress their partner’s amazing abilities like that? But she couldn’t help being reminded of Harry. Wasn’t his father also bent on shutting those magical abilities of his away? 

Why was it that so many people didn’t want witches to be powerful? Why didn’t they want them to be their true selves? In true researcher fashion, Emma began to spend the parts of her free time that she wasn’t already spending reading about witches with Sarah, researching why magic was so misunderstood. She decided to adopt an interview-based approach, talking to people who she already knew were witches.

When she asked Harry, he shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know what to tell you, Emma. People are frightened of things they don’t understand. They want us to put the parts of us that make us unique down, so they don’t feel lesser.”

“More and more witches are doing this.” Ariana advised her. “It is because witches who are born to prosaic parents, and there are more and more these days, are told that their powers are unnatural. They are told not to accept their own magic and then they become frightened and shut themselves off.”

Based on those two discussions, she came back to Sarah one evening as they were set up in Emma’s apartment. A few weeks had passed, and it was almost time for the winter solstice. Sarah had been surprisingly tight-lipped about what she had to procure for the ritual, only saying that some of the items were very difficult to obtain and that was why she so disliked this particular ritual. 

“So.” She began. “I’ve been talking to some people about why people are frightened of magic to try and understand Mark more.” 

Sarah froze in the midst of setting up a ritual circle in Emma’s living room. They had shuttered the curtains so that no one would glance in Emma’s windows and either call the witch hunters or the fire department. “Isn’t it obvious?” She finally answered bitterly. “It’s because they are frightened. It’s the most human emotion in the world.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. But I think it’s more than that. I think pushing our magic away is having a negative effect on all of us. I’m just… I’m just worried about you Sarah. I’m worried that you’re in a relationship where you aren’t allowing yourself to actually just be yourself.” 

“Mark just wants the best for me.” Sarah responded shrilly, cutting up small pieces of thyme and lavender more abruptly, the pieces falling to the ground.

“Does he?” Emma asked quietly, “Or does he want a wife that makes him feel good about himself?” 

Sarah turned to her with tears in her eyes. “Don’t you think I know that?” She bit her lip and looked away, shaking. 

Emma hesitated. She had never been good with comforting others or expressing this kind of emotion. “Look Sarah. I know you just got married. I know it’s precisely the wrong time for all of this. But you’re the only person who has been here for me throughout all of this. I’m trying to be there for you in the best way I can.” 

She wiped her eyes discretely on her sweater, looking to see if Sarah would respond. After a few minutes of silence, she looked up at Emma, her cheeks wet. “Look Em. I appreciate it, I really do. I’m just… I’m struggling. I don’t know how to get out of this marriage. My friends would all say I’m insane. Mark and I are the power couple amongst some of our friends and I have no reason for why I feel like I can’t be with him other than the issue of magic. It’s just one thing and we have so many other things in common - “ 

“Just stop.” Emma said, leaning forward to wrap Sarah up in her arms. “You’re rationalizing. Magic is one of the most important parts of you. It’s what makes you special. I think this part of you makes you extraordinary. But it isn’t the only part of you that I adore. You’ve been there for me this whole time and I can’t imagine anyone else taking the time to support me like you have. I hate seeing you like this. And if your friends don’t support you, so what? You know what kind of relationship is best for you. If this is making you unhappy, you have every right to get away from it.”

Sarah just sat there, hugged tightly in Emma’s arms. “Do you think it is an abusive relationship?” She finally asked Emma, her voice quiet.

Not trusting herself. Emma nodded slowly. “He’s telling you that an intrinsic part of yourself that you can never get rid of is ugly. How much more abusive can you get?” 

Sarah sighed deeply, almost folding in on herself. “Look. I’ll deal with it. I… this will take time. I’ve known him for years and I know this won’t go over well. I need to have some contingency plans in place so that I’m okay.”

“Physically?” Emma asked in alarm.

Sarah laughed, lightening the situation. “God no. Financially. Now let’s get back to this ritual.” 

They turned back to the circle that she had been building. It was carefully sewed together with special herbs like lavender, thyme and sandalwood. Sarah had been working on it for weeks, coming over every other day to bless the ingredients, bringing a bit more to form a circle. Although it wasn’t a kind of magic that Emma could recognize within herself, she found that she thought the circle was beautiful in a unique kind of way. Every time she entered the living room, she could sense a kind of otherworldly presence that beckoned to her. When she told Sarah about this, her friend had smiled. “It should.” She responded. “It’s a ritual circle that calls to all witches but we’re going to direct all of that magic to find this Hilda Nottingham of yours.” 

Finally, the day of the solstice came. As Emma woke up, she could feel something in the air. Even though her apartment was empty except for herself and Jingles early in the morning, it felt as though a million witches were observing her every move. It would have been creepy, but that observation felt comforting, almost as though they knew that she was on the right path. She had never been particularly drawn to that kind of predictive magic or astrology, but this feeling felt different.

As she went about her day, Emma could sense that something important would happen tonight. Work felt unimportant. Jingles felt… well, Jingles always felt important but even today, his incessant meowing had fallen by the wayside. He also sat next to her on the desk, which was an anomaly all in itself, lashing his tail angrily, as though he too could sense something was raising the back of his neck. Eventually the day faded to night and her doorbell rang. Sarah stood outside, looking somehow more radiant than usual. She tossed a grin and a piece of homemade ginger cake at Emma and walked through the door.

“Thanks!” Emma called, “But since when do you bake?” 

Sarah smiled, plopping down on the couch to observe how the circle had been changing over the past day. “Well never, but today was a special occasion” 

“Oh?” She pretended not to know. 

“Well apart from our ritual going forward. I also took some steps to separate myself from Mark.” 

Emma jumped up and ran into her arms. “That’s so exciting Sarah! Ah, I’m so proud of you. I know it can’t be easy. What exactly did you do?”   
Sarah laughed but made no effort to shove Emma off of her. “I started discussions with my financial advisor and a lawyer about slowly separating myself. It will take time, a month at least but I can retain a lot of control over my finances and legally make a case for getting back what I have invested in our relationship.”

Emma didn’t say anything, just held Sarah tighter. She was so proud of Sarah finally taking steps to get herself out of a marriage that seemed to suck the life out of her. 

“But onto more important matters.” Sarah continued. “Have you been feeling the power of the ritual circle increase today?” 

Emma nodded vigorously. “I was hoping it was that and not my nerves. It’s been like a million witches were watching us.” 

Sarah bit her lip. “I hope not for our sakes. I think it’s just the power, but we’ll direct that tonight.”

“When do we get to it?” 

“Hold your horses.” Sarah laughed. “We still need to wait until midnight and it’s only 8 o’clock. Let’s get some food in us and then I can walk you through what we need to do.” 

Emma had prepared for this and walked over to the kitchen with air underneath her steps, gesturing at Sarah to follow along. “I made us some curry, extra spicy for you and prepared some jasmine rice. And for dessert.” She opened the fridge dramatically. “I present to you my famous seven-layer bars.” 

Sarah sighed happily. “I love your seven-layer bars.” 

“Oh, I know” Emma responded smugly. “Now let’s get to some food.” 

The two women sat down and began the comforting process of getting dinner ready. By now, Sarah had been over so many times that the two of them had their own procedure. Emma would heat the food while Sarah would put together drinks and set the table. Before they knew it, time had flown by and they both were sitting at the table finishing up Emma’s curry.

“You truly know how to make a good curry, Em” Sarah said in satisfaction, patting her stomach. “I feel like I well and truly destroyed that.” 

Emma smiled. “You did. Now tell me this method.” 

Sarah leaned forward. “Okay. So, it’s all pretty easy now that we’ve put in the work of setting up the circle. At midnight, we’ll both stand in the circle and recite this spell together while you hold a small fire in your hand. Then we’ll call out Hilda’s name and convey the message we want to say. Then we step outside the circle, drop the fire and burn up the circle and throw the ashes inside your fireplace. Done.” 

Emma stared at her. “Okay. I have a few questions. First, what spell? Secondly, fire in my hands? And then third – are we burning my apartment to the ground?” 

Sarah giggled. “No. no. The spell is simple. It goes like this

__  
Goddess of the Solstice. Hear me well. I come to you to seek your aid.  
We seek another sister. One far away and lost from our sight.  
We wish to speak to her. Alone and without ears to peek upon our light.  
Please, Goddess, I ask this of you with a boon for your help  
We seek Hilda Nottingham, a historian of clout  
We give you this fire, this thyme, all of this without doubt  
Hilda Nottingham, our message is this….   


And then we’ll say your message and then ta-da. Secondly, yes. I know you can wish to hold fire in your hands. It makes the whole process ten times easier. Trust me on this and no, we aren’t burning your apartment.” 

Emma narrowed her eyes at Sarah. “We better not. I love this apartment.” 

As the hours passed, the two women continued to chat. It was the kind of evening that felt tingly, their mind spinning from one topic to the next without noticing the hours fly by. But eventually it reached midnight.

“Are you ready?” Sarah asked as they stood inside the circle. Emma’s heart was beating fast, but she couldn’t do anything other than stare into Sarah’s eyes. She nodded, her mouth dry. 

Sarah closed her eyes and nodded at her, holding her hands tightly. With a decisive nod, Emma wished that she could hold a small fire in their hands, one that would only burn the ritual circle and nothing else. As she stared in their hands, a fire formed, dancing beautifully and somehow not hurting either of them. Sarah opened her eyes, fire dancing in their depths and began the spell.

__  
Goddess of the Solstice. Hear me well. I come to you to seek your aid.  
We seek another sister. One far away and lost from our sight.  
We wish to speak to her. Alone and without ears to peek upon our light.  
Please, Goddess, I ask this of you with a boon for your help  
We seek Hilda Nottingham, a historian of clout  
We give you this fire, this thyme, all of this without doubt  
Hilda Nottingham, our message is this….   


She turned to Emma, nodding slightly. Emma gulped. “Hilda Nottingham. My name is Emma Hornberger and I have reached out to you with Sarah Kerner. I have questions about the witch hunters and witches in Boston. I know that you have been censored in the library but someone I trust have mentioned you. I have so many questions and I think only you can answer them. Please contact us somehow. You can find us at Trident Café on Wednesday evenings from 6pm to 10pm every week for the next three months.” 

Sarah breathed deeply, squeezing Emma’s hand tightly. At the same time, they both stepped outside of the circle and Emma dropped the fire in the center. To their collective amazement, the fire only burned the ritual circle, releasing the scents of sandalwood, thyme and lavender into the air. Although Emma had wished for that to be the case, it was still a marvel to watch her fire dance and eventually as only ashes remained, burn out to a spark. Sarah leaned forward, collecting the ash and dispersed it in the fireplace. Emma’s living room still felt full of that otherworldly presence as the two women stood staring at one another before Emma took a deep breath.

“So, did we do it?” 

Sarah smiled at her broadly before jumping into a hug. “Yes.” She whispered. “Now get me another seven-layer bar immediately. I’m starving.”


	21. Chapter 21

Although she had originally thought that such magic had immediate results, Emma was quickly cured of that misconception about witchcraft. As the days had slowly peeled away from the winter solstice and Christmas drew nearer, she grew impatient. Winter in Boston was always both a positive and negative affair. On one hand, the snow, when it came, was so beautiful and made the city magical but on the other – it was really freaking cold. Three days after the solstice was Christmas Eve and Emma found herself at Sarah and Mark’s Christmas party. She was not particularly excited to be at the party, but after Sarah had wheedled and begged her to be there, she had given in. She didn’t fully understand why they were having a party when Sarah was stepping away from the relationship, but as a friend, she wanted to be there for her in the only way she knew how. So here she was, stuffed into a dress that felt too tight and shoes that made her wince internally with each small step. 

Despite her own internal musings, she had to admit that Sarah and Mark’s apartment was beautiful. Mark’s finance job was cushy and allowed them to live in an overly stylized modern apartment downtown. As with most modern apartments, the couches all felt uncomfortable – as though there were no cushions, only blocks of Styrofoam - and the whole living room felt like it had been designed like a show for a realtor. The people here also weren’t her kind of people. Not to put too fine a point on it, but they were the kind of people who laughed obnoxiously, who swirled their wine before tasting it and who didn’t know the names of their coffee barista. As Emma picked at her finger food and completed leaving, another waiter came up to her.

“Another class of champagne, ma’am?” 

Emma shook her head with a forced smile. “No thank you.” She had never been one for fancy parties. While she enjoyed small gatherings, larger parties like this one where it always felt as though you were solely there to show off your wealth or the position felt cold and impersonal to her. She glanced across the room where she could just see Sarah nestled into Mark’s arm. Sarah looked uncomfortable, her normally wild and curly hair straightened, and her usual comfortable yoga pants switched out for a structured dress that made her look more mannequin than person. 

Without warning, Emma felt the tell-tale surge of jealousy rush through her. It was so tempting to just wish for them not to be together. But Emma knew better. She didn’t need Sarah to tell that those particular kinds of wishes, the ones that impacted someone’s personal relationship, were not the kind of wishes she should be making. She still needed more time to study magical lore but from her own research into fantasy magical lore, with magic, it was always about intent. 

As she took a few deep breathes, someone lightly tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around slowly, noting a woman she had never seen before.

“Hi, sorry can I help you?” 

The woman blushed prettily. “Hi, you’re Sarah’s friend Emma, right? The one from college?” 

Sarah internally narrowed her eyes. “Yes” She responded, outwardly smiling. “That would be me. But you have me at a disadvantage. I’m not sure who you are.” 

The other woman smiled and held out her hand. “My name is Janice, I’m one of Sarah’s work colleagues.” 

“Oh, hi.” She hadn’t heard about Janice before, but that wasn’t a surprise to Emma. Sarah rarely talked about her work. As a psychologist, most of her work fell under doctor-client confidentiality so she couldn’t speak about it in any depth. “Nice to meet you.” 

“You as well.” Janice seemed very comfortable in this kind of social setting. “Sarah mentioned you do a bit of UI work. I’m fascinated to hear more about it.” 

With another forced smile, Emma shook herself out of her own internal misery and began to talk with Janice. There was nothing particularly horrid about the woman per say but she found that these kind of conversations, these small talk moments, were the ones she hated the most. Rather than have any kind of real discussion, she was forced to waste her time and this strangers on inane topics. Luckily after a moment, she made an excuse to go to the bathroom – pointing at her purse apologetically – the universal sign for her period. 

As she made her way to the bathroom, she caught Sarah also making her way hurriedly to the kitchen, wiping away something that looked suspiciously like a tear. Making a split-second decision, she followed her. The kitchen was full of people, but Sarah tore right through it, smiling at these strangers in her apartment as she walked straight through and to the bedroom. Before she could close the door, Emma slipped through. Sarah didn’t even look at her and just moved to the bed, sitting down with her head in her hands. 

“Sarah?” Emma asked cautiously. “Are you okay?” 

She shook her head, not moving it. “Do I look like I’m okay?” 

“Well, if I’m being honest, no. You look exhausted. Did he say something to you?” 

Sarah let out a sigh. “He didn’t say anything he wouldn’t have said before. He just made some comment about how my job was very sweet and ordinary. No one else would have caught it but it felt like he just shoved a knife in my ribs, a reminder that being ordinary and normal is something I was doing so well at, and that even though – my job and my life were just a side piece to his.” 

By the time she had finished saying that, her words were coming out amidst small sobs. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.” She admitted. “I don’t know how I let myself get stuck in this situation. I’m not usually this kind of person.”

Emma moved to sit next to her on the bed, rubbing her back in soothing circles. “Sometimes these things just happen. Toxic relationships can be the people you least expect and it’s difficult to break it to yourself that you let yourself get taken in by them.” 

Sarah smiled amongst her tears. “You would know, wouldn’t you?” 

Emma laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “As you well know, yes.” She thought back to a toxic friend she had been close with in college. It hadn’t been romantic in nature, but she could recall those feelings of inadequacy and guilt that seemed to be at her beck and call all the time. It hadn’t been pleasant, but it had been Sarah who had rescued her, and allowed her to get out of a really bad situation. 

“Hey” She said spontaneously. “Do you just want to get out of here?” 

Sarah looked at her in surprise. “We can’t just leave. This is my party.”

“Sure we can” Emma laughed. “We can do whatever we want. Just say the word and I promise, we’ll be gone before anyone knows what happened.” 

Sarah looked guilty for a moment, before a longing expression crossed her face. Before she could persuade herself otherwise, she nodded quickly. “Please, Em.” 

Emma gave her a smile before closing her eyes. She wished that they were both standing outside of her own apartment in Brookline, with all of their items from that evening in comfortable clothes as though it was just a normal evening that the two of them wanted to share together. She wished that no one noticed that they were gone and that Mark in particular wouldn’t notice that they had left and wouldn’t mind. Just before she opened her eyes, she wished that the evening would be peaceful and calm for Sarah, that all of her fears and anger about this toxic relationship she was in would just fly away. 

Then she opened her eyes. They were both standing on the doorstep of her apartment, wearing their respective pajamas each carrying a bag, which Emma assumed had their items from the party inside. She touched her face and was delighted to notice that she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Looking at Sarah, she touched her shoulder gently. 

“Open your eyes.” She said quietly.

“What if it didn’t work?” Sarah asked, clutching onto her bag. “What if I open my eyes and we’re still in my bedroom and I have to go out there and face all of those people?” 

Emma paused. “I think I would be very disappointed in your sense of situational awareness. Open your eyes, Sarah.” And then Sarah did. They widened as she looked at Emma, looked down at herself and then where they were.

“Holy shit.” She burst out spontaneously. “That was amazing.”

They both laughed, and Sarah hugged her tightly. “Thank you” She whispered. “I needed that.” After a moment, they both headed inside, ready to spend the rest of Christmas Eve together. 

It was a marked accomplishment of Emma’s magic that Mark indeed did not notice anything amiss with his wife disappearing during the middle of their Christmas party. When Sarah had hesitantly called him the next morning, he breezily told her that of course he understood and that it was no trouble at all. Now it was just a matter of waiting for Hilda Nottingham to respond to their message. 

In the meantime, Sarah kept trying to convince Emma to call her parents. “Trust me” She repeated for the umpteenth time. “You’re going to want to talk with them about this. What if you wait and then it’s too late?” 

“Do you think they’re going to die?” Emma snorted. “Why can’t I just let it be?”

Sarah sighed, plopping down to Emma on the couch. “Because Em, this conflict between you and your parents – it’s coming from not understanding each other. I’m not saying you have to solve it now or any time soon but at least hear them out. Don’t you want to know why your mom did what she did? At least a little bit?” 

Emma shifted uncomfortably. Leave it to Sarah to poke at her in her most vulnerable places. Of course, she wanted to know. Her mom had been calling at least once a week, begging her to come to Vermont to talk to them while Emma had been ignoring those calls steadily. 

“I suppose I could call her.” She admitted. “But could you be here when I do. I’m just… I’m worried I’ll get angry.”

Emma smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here.” 

At last, Emma picked up her cellphone, shooting Sarah a look of betrayal. “If I must.” She dialed the number that she knew by heart and held the phone up to her ear.

Her mother picked up on the first ring. “Emma, sweetheart. I’m so happy you finally returned my calls. I really need to speak with you.” 

“Well here I am.” She fought to remain calm. “What did you want to talk about?” 

Her mother sighed. “I want to explain myself. I want to tell you about the night we decided to wipe your memory.”

Her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe her mother would just admit to that. “I... I didn’t expect you to admit to that.”

“Emma” Her mother sounded amused. “I know you went to Boulder. I know you saw Caitlyn. I know she wouldn’t not tell you. What’s the point in hiding it?” 

She shrugged, knowing that wouldn’t convey through the phone. “Okay” She said after a moment. “Explain it then.”

“Well.” Her mother began. “Well Emma you were 15. You had just run away from home and somehow gotten to Boulder Colorado. I’m not even sure to this day how you did it. You just knew. And when you got back, you were different. You said you had to go to Salem. You had to meet this… this girl and be with her? I didn’t know what to think. Things are different now but back then; I wasn’t as open-minded as I am now.”

“Open-minded?” Emma asked in confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

Her mother paused before continuing delicately. “Am I to take this as confirmation that you and Sarah are not involved romantically?” 

“Mom!” Emma said scandalized. “We’re friends. I mean, close friends but…” As she said this, her voice trailed off as her eyes turned to Sarah. Her friend looked confused but also was itching her nose in an attempt to hide her own blush. And Emma couldn’t help noticing that out of everyone and everything, the only person she really trusted right now was Sarah. That trust and support wasn’t necessarily just platonic. 

Emma’s mom let out a sigh. “Well maybe not yet. But I’m… I’m trying to be better, Emma. It just takes time to change the way you’ve thought about things for so long and I didn’t react well. Especially when you told me you would be going to Salem to be with this girl no matter what and that I couldn’t stop you, I just… I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to make sure you were safe. So, I found a witch and we erased your memory. It was confusing to explain everything to you after and the second we did it, I knew it was wrong. I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t understand.”

She turned her eyes to the ceiling, willing herself not to cry. Emma could count on two hands the amount of times her mother had actually apologized to her. This would be number seven. “Mom, I’m, it’s okay. I can’t pretend and say I’m 100% okay with it right now but thank you for apologizing. I can understand that sometimes we make choices and we aren’t sure why we make them but then we know they are mistakes after.”

Her mother seemed to let go a large breath she was holding. “Thank you, Emma.” And she seemed to really mean it. “And don’t let Sarah go. I know right now you’re just friends and maybe it will stay that way but if this woman has been there for you throughout everything, then keep her around.”

Emma just nodded staring at Sarah. “Okay, thanks mom. I have to go.”

Her mother said goodbye and hung up the phone. Sarah and Emma were left staring at one another.

“Soo” Sarah began. “That seemed like an interesting conversation.”

“My mom just apologized to me” Emma felt a bit numb. “She’s only done that six other times. And this time it felt real. She said sorry for wiping my memory and Sarah, she was convinced we were more than friends.” 

Rather than immediately jumping to defending her own views of heteronormativity, Sarah blushed. “Are we?” She asked. 

This time it was Emma’s turn to blush and scratch behind her ear. “I don’t know.” She answered truthfully. “I can’t… I can’t deny that there are things between us that feel like we’re more than friends and I can’t deny that I feel something.” 

Sarah searched Emma’s face before taking her hand in her own. “I have felt something over these last couple months.” She admitted. “I haven’t known how to address it, I’ve been married, and it’s complicated but I have to admit…” 

But before she could finish her sentence, the doorbell rang.   
“Who is that?” Emma stood up, breaking the moment. “It’s late.” 

“Just answer it.” Sarah also stood, reaching down to hold Emma’s hand. “Then we can continue this long overdue discussion.”

Emma smiled, interlocking her fingers with Sarah’s. “You’re right.” She walked over, opening the door as she did so to find an elderly woman standing outside on her doorstep, her hair drawn back in a severe bun, tightly holding a carpetbag and staring sternly at the two of them.

She thrust out her hand. “Hilda Nottingham. Pleased to meet you. You called?”


	22. Chapter 22

Emma stared outside of her doorframe in semi-shock. She knew that she and Sarah had sent a secret message to an exiled historian/witch but she hadn’t exactly expected said witch to appear on her doorstep. The woman looked like any self-respecting historian would. Her hair was drawn back into a bun, glasses covering her dark brown eyes that sharply stared at Sarah and herself. She was wearing winter attire, which likely masked some of the witchiness from her general appearance, but Emma still couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman was dangerous. 

She turned to Sarah, also noting that her potentially more-than-friend seemed surprised as well. Then with a meow, Jingles appeared, winding his way through their feet to say hello the newcomer. Her face softened and she leaned down to give Jingles a stroke, smiling as he rubbed up against her.

She nodded decisively. “Any good witch with a familiar as friendly and smart as this one is surely worth the trouble this trip has been. Are you going to invite me in?”

Emma started. “Oh yes, of course! Sorry, I was just surprised you got back to us so quickly.” 

The elderly woman snorted. “It was like a foghorn calling me. I couldn’t not answer a summons like that made with that kind of effort. I don’t remember the last time someone has called me like that.” 

Emma smiled weakly and opened the door wider, gesturing for her to come in. “Please come in. Can I take your coat?” 

Hilda nodded, and deposited her coat with Sarah, eyeing the pair of them cautiously. 

“Can I offer you a cup of tea or coffee?” Emma asked, trying to be polite. “It’s late after all.” 

Again, Hilda nodded. “I can’t say no to that.” She made her way into the kitchen and sat down at Emma’s old table, noting her surroundings like a woman who had seen many battles. With a gulp and after clarifying that it was in fact coffee Hilda wanted, Emma sat about making coffee for her guest. Without really noticing, she wished quietly for the coffee to be delicious and for her inevitably loud coffee machine to keep it down. 

Without warning, Hilda let out a bark of laughter. “So, the rumors are true.” 

“What rumors?” Sarah asked, her eyes narrowing a bit at Hilda from across the table. 

Hilda pointed at Emma. “I’ve been hearing whispers about a very powerful witch in Boston who was stirring up trouble, but no names were given so I didn’t have a face to match with your name. I would bet my mother’s knitting that it was you.” 

Emma bit her lip. “I don’t know if I’m exceptionally powerful.” She set Hilda’s coffee on the table, passing along a cup to Sarah and herself as well. “I just have an easier time performing magic than the normal witch I suppose.” 

“Actually, speaking of magic.” Sarah continued. “We had set a meeting time and place at the Trident Café. Why aren’t you meeting us there as opposed to here?” 

Hilda’s smile widened. “I like you girl. Always asking the right kinds of questions. To be clear, even though I don’t think your message was intercepted by anyone, you can’t be sure these days. You already gave me your name and I can smell that kind of power from miles away. I just found your name in the directory, Emma. You are listed under this address as a freelancer and I thought I’d try my luck.” 

Emma scratched her head self-consciously. “I didn’t know it would be so easy to track.” 

“When you have experience.” Hilda said casually. “You get around. But let’s get down to business. No one followed me that I am aware of, but the Boston coven is not particularly fond of me encroaching on their territory and I like to stay out of here if I can. What can I do for you?” 

Emma cleared her throat. “Well, I was in the Boston library a few weeks ago and I was doing some research on the witch coven versus witch hunter history and it just seemed a bit black and white for my taste. I spoke to a library and she said that I should speak to you, that you had more insight into why this happened and if there was more nuance to it. I just learned about magic and I’m still getting my bearings in the community so I would really appreciate your help.” 

Hilda leaned back in her chair, sipped her coffee and stared at Emma for a moment. “It’s.” She started. “It’s difficult to know where to begin. The history of witch hunters and witches in Boston is the story that I have dedicated my whole life’s work to. Because I don’t have a huge amount of time, I’ve brought along my books that I will be sending you a Paypal invoice for but for the long and short of it, what do you already know?”   
“We know that things had always been tense here.” Emma began. “But that things were especially bad in the World Wars. That witch hunters believed that magic originated from Europe, so they thought all witches were with the Nazis and they hunted us down and tried to slaughter us. But then one evening, a witch hunter’s child, Henry Adam’s child, was killed in a raid so he and the head of the coven at that time Tanya Burstein made a truce and since then, it has been a steady but uncomfortable peace. But I… I have trouble believing that.” 

Hilda smiled. “And why is that?” She asked. “Surely you believe what’s been written in the history books?” 

Emma shrugged uncomfortably. “Call it a gut instinct. It’s all Shakespearian. These things are never as cut and dry as people want them to be.” 

“You would make a good historian.” Hilda remarked, stirring her coffee thoughtfully. “Alright. I will tell you a bit of what I know. As you say, the situation in Boston has always been tense. It’s not just thanks to the Salem Witch Trials. That did have an impact, but Boston has always had a draw for witches in general. While throughout the rest of the country, covens are small and generally less than ten witches, here the coven had always been large and influential. Witch hunters came originally here because they didn’t like the leniency shown to witches and the way that they were able to run this city as their own.”

“Wait. So, you’re saying that witches essentially had Boston as a mecca location as somewhere where they could feel safe?” Sarah asked, her eyes wide with shock.

“Yes.” Hilda nodded. “It wasn’t one hundred percent under their control, but witches felt safe, and they could almost practice magic openly. So, of course, more witches came and with them, came witch hunters. Witch hunters began to try and gain prominence of the city council so there was this constant battle being waged between these two groups not only privately but also in a sense, publicly.”

“So, what changed?” Emma asked, rubbing her chin. “Obviously something had to change.”

Hilda smiled. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to be a historian? What changed was a group of extremist witches in the late 1800s and early 1900s. They decided that there should be no witch hunters at all in Boston. This has been taken out of the history books, but these witches were like what we consider today’s terrorists. They would try and kill and frighten witch hunters into leaving Boston but of course by then, Boston was as much a city for these people as it was for the witches. So, naturally, they didn’t want to and shouldn’t have had to leave. And they did horrible things. Some would kidnap the children of witch hunters and either kill them or do otherwise horrific things to them in the name of magic. It was a dark time for witches as everyone started to associate these extremists with the broader idea of what witches stood for.”

Emma was slowly nodding her head in agreement. “That makes more sense. Theresa, the librarian I was talking to, mentioned that there have been extremists, but she didn’t mention that they were so prevalent here.”

“They aren’t as well-known here.” Hilda shrugged, tenting her fingers. “There are some places like New Orleans and other international cities where they have more popular histories, but witches here have hidden theirs because they don’t like the way it makes them look. But back to the story. These extremists brought more and more negative press to witches so by the time the World Wars started, people were predisposed to immediately turn on the witches. In all honesty, I don’t blame them. While only a small portion were extreme, it was a time of war. You haven’t seen it. You don’t know how toxic it can be to suddenly believe that there are enemies around you at all times. But yes, during this time, witches and witch hunters fought endlessly. It wasn’t just witch hunters, but also witches that killed as many of the other as they could find.”

“And the story about the child?” Sarah asked quietly. “Was that true? I remember learning that from my mother when I was young.”

Hilda inclined her head. “Yes and no. Henry Adam’s child was killed but it wasn’t just his child. It was Tanya Burstein’s as well.”

“Wait!” Emma interrupted. “Tanya Burstein was the head of the Boston witch coven and Henry Adams was the head of the witch hunters or am I missing something?” 

Hilda shook her head sadly. “Unfortunately, not. Love can form in many places and for these two, it happened during the worst time. They kept their love a secret but eventually witch hunters and witches from both sides found out about this illegitimate child. It is cruel that it was the one thing that both sides agreed on, that this child was an abomination and needed to be slaughtered. So, they did slaughter him. But in the backlash from both clans, it turned out that not as many people were comfortable with slaughtering children as the ring leaders wanted them to be.” 

Sarah’s eyebrows furrowed. “Okay fine, but then how did they get to a truce?” 

“That’s something I’m still studying.” Hilda admitted. “I’m still going through old records. I know that there was a truce and that they did stop fighting but as to why and how, I’m not entirely clear.”

“And did they stop fighting for the next hundred years?” Emma asked suspiciously. “I’ve found that lie particularly hard to believe.” 

Hilda threw back her head and laughed. “Indeed, you are right child. They did not stop fighting. They merely found other ways to fight. Instead of fighting outright, some witches supported the Communists and other threw their weight behind movements like McCarthyism. A bit like the proxy wars between the Soviet Union and the United States. They needed to fight – almost like a compulsion.”

“But just never outright.” Sarah muttered. “So, this whole idea of a truce is nonsense. We’ve never not been at war. It’s just a war that has kind of receded into small proxy wars. But then why was the coven so mad the other evening?” 

Hilda’s gaze sharpened. “The coven was here?” 

Emma nodded. “They came here after I performed magic on the so-called eve of this little boy’s murder and said I was in danger of breaking a truce that had been held for a hundred years.”

“Poppycock.” Hilda snorted. “What they are frightened of is the lore describing you two.”

This immediately got Emma and Sarah’s attention. “The lore describing us?” Sarah asked gingerly. 

Hilda nodded, oblivious to their nerves. “I heard you had a run in with witch hunters recently. That was no mistake. There is lore that two powerful witches will bring about something resembling peace in Boston.”

“And you don’t think it’s in the witches’ interest for peace” Emma said. “They want to continue the conflict.”

“Fear makes people fall into line.” Hilda said by way of an answer. 

Emma nodded. “What else does the lore say?” 

Again, Hilda shrugged. “Lore is notorious for being misunderstood. It doesn’t help to know. In fact, it hurts to know because then you can misinterpret it. But I will explain to some of it to you. Lore says that two powerful witches, one with uncontrollable power and one with traditional power, will come together and end centuries of fighting in Boston. Many witches believe that it was misspoken as many believe that has been no fighting in Boston for centuries or they attribute it to lore that refers to the past rather than the future.”

“End fighting in Boston?” Emma asked rather desperately. “How would that even be possible?” 

Hilda was silent for a moment. “I think talking to the witch hunters would be a first start.” She answered quietly. “You can’t figure out how to end a conflict without understanding both sides. I may have a lot of information about what happened between the two sides but even I don’t know what the witch hunters are saying now. As witches, we don’t talk with them at all. I’m sure you’ve heard that they have magic tracking devices.”

Emma and Sarah nodded. 

“And yet” Hilda continued. “No one knows how they work or if they work. Do they have their own lore? What kind of life is that of a witch hunter? Where do they come from? What motivates them? No one knows the answer to any of these questions but as a historian, I think they are the key to understanding why we are constantly at war.” She hesitated. “Being at war constantly is something that witches and witch hunters have been doing for as long as they have been alive. It will not be easy to end that kind of mindset.”

“It’s a bit like the Palestinians and the Israelis.” Sarah remarked. When Emma turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “No, I’m serious! Both sides have been trying to kill each other for as long as they can remember. Granted, it has only been 60 years there but both sides live in this constant war mentality and that can’t be good.” 

Emma let out a sigh, took a deep sip of coffee and buried her head in her hands. “Ugh.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t even know where to start”

“Witch hunters anonymous?” Sarah jokingly suggested. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” Emma muttered. 

Hilda smiled and stood. “I think you start how you start anything. Talk to people. Figure out who these people are. That is, of course, if you want. But I have to go, ladies. The night is late, and I sense the coven might be aware of my presence inside the city. It is time to go.” 

“Will we see you again?” Sarah asked, gathering Hilda’s coat.

“Maybe.” Hilda considered. “It will depend on if you are successful amongst another of other factors.”

Emma opened the door, “And if we need to get in touch?” 

Hilda smiled. “Much as I adore the old methods. Just email me. Hilda.nottingham@gmail.com” 

The three witches laughed, sharing a moment of companionship for a moment before Hilda dipped her head at them both, murmuring ‘Blessed Be’ and disappearing into the night as silently as she had arrived. Emma and Sarah turned to one another, each letting out a deep breath of air.

“Bed?” Sarah suggested. “It’s late. Let’s try to get some sleep before we unpack everything.” Without any argument, Emma nodded and gestured back inside. They would need the sleep before they set out to plan their next steps.


	23. Chapter 23

As she woke up cuddled up underneath her comforter, Emma heard the slow and steady rattling of radiator. It took her a moment to understand why it was on. Usually she did not turn on the radiator at night unless it became super cold in the darkest crevices of February. Then she turned to the other side of her bed and she remembered. Sarah was curled up beside her, breathing slowly as she remained deep in sleep. Emma’s mouth curled up into a smile, remembering that Sarah ran very cold and needed the heat. She had in fact warned her about this fact before they went to sleep, saying that she might wake up in the middle of the night and turn on the radiator. 

It was still early, Emma remarked to herself as she shifted to look at the dark skies outside her window. In winter, Boston did not get late until a bit later in the day, which meant that even for Emma’s relatively late weekend wake-up time of 8am, it was still dark. She quietly slid out of bed, staring at Sarah still resting amongst her blankets. It gave her a warm and fuzzy feeling inside to know that despite their confusing emotions, they could still remain close enough friends to sleep in the same bed. 

She shuffled downstairs, wrapped up in her robe, smiling as Jingles rubbed up next to her ankles. Luckily it was a Sunday and neither of them had to be up and about doing anything. She picked up Jingles with one hand and cradled him as she went to get his food from the pantry. He shifted uncomfortably in her arms and meowed insistently until she put him and his food in a bowl on the floor. She flipped the switch for coffee, staring out the window in the dark street. There was barely anyone out right now apart from very early risers who ran around the city, huffing air that was cold enough to leave little clouds of fog in front of their faces. She would never understand people who chose to run early in the morning, let alone when it was cold in winter. As the coffee machine began to rattle, she turned back inside. Sarah was wandering down the stairs, her pajamas covered by another one of Emma’s robes and her feet snuggled up in Emma’s slippers. 

“Hey sleepyhead.” Emma said, smiling as she did so. “Coffee?”

“Please” Sarah’s voice was raspy from sleep as she moved to sit at Emma’s small kitchen table. The two sat in companionable silence for a moment as Emma put together their respective coffees and handed one to Sarah. “Black with three sugars just like you like it.” 

Sarah smiled. “No quip about how I’m drinking more sugar than actual coffee.”

Emma laughed. “It’s Sunday morning, I think you should be allowed your sugar in peace.”

“Thank you.” Sarah inclined her head to her, sipping her coffee with an undisguised groan. “Sometimes I think it’s not only to be this addicted to coffee, but then again, I can’t say I mind it at all.”

Emma shrugged gracefully. “It’s a socially accepted addiction. Sort of like smart phones and alcohol.”

“We live in such a world.” Sarah looked at Emma directly, smiling, a bit more awake than before. 

She couldn’t help herself. Emma looked away blushing, trying to focus on the task at hand, her eyes straying to the refrigerator. “Um, do you want any breakfast?” 

Sarah grinned shyly. “Yes. If you happen to have any scrambled eggs, that would be lovely. Otherwise, I just subsist on cheese and crackers.”

“That’s so unhealthy.” Emma huffed, but let a grin also escape her visage. “You should eat something with more protein and starch and fiber in the mornings.”

“Since when are you Ms. Healthy?” Sarah laughed. “Ms. I live on ramen, Kraft macaroni and cheese and ice cream in college.”

Emma shot her a look. “Things have changed”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Oh really. And if I opened the refrigerator, what would I find?” 

“You wouldn’t find anything there.” Emma paused. “Well… but you might find something in the pantry.” 

The pair of them laughed, the awkward silence broken. Not for the first time, Emma remarked on just how comfortable Sarah made her feel. There was no pretending that she was anyone other than who she actually was. There was no concern that she had to act a certain way or pretend to be prettier or smarter or cleverer than she was. As Sarah made the pair of them breakfast, whisking together Sarah’s eggs with care, smiling at the sizzling sound they made when hitting the pan, she felt calmer than she had in weeks. 

“You should come over for breakfast more often.” She said conversationally as she pushed the eggs around, adding a dash of chives. 

Sarah cleared her throat. “Speaking of that, we should er probably continue that conversation from last night.”

Emma laughed nervously. “Yeah, Hilda kind of interrupted us, didn’t she?” 

“She one hundred percent did!” Sarah said indignantly. “I was just about to tell you I had feelings for you and then she immediately walked through the door. Well, not this time. I am not letting anyone interrupt me again. Emma, I have feelings for… oh wait, crap, I already said it didn’t I?” 

Emma stared at her, her smile widening with every passing second, so much so that she thought her face would burst from the width of her grin. Sarah looked fired up, her cheeks red with emotion, and her hair flying every which way – just the way Emma had always thought she looked the most beautiful. 

“That’s a good thing.” She giggled. “Because I have feelings for you too. I don’t really know how to quantify them. I’ve never been in a relationship with another woman before but if it would be anyone, it would be you.” 

“I’m honored.” Sarah laughed, reaching forward to touch Emma’s hand. “I don’t really know where to go from here. I mean, I’m still technically married, but I want to try things out between us, Em. I know our friendship comes first. At least, it does for me, but I still want to try.”

“Me too.” Emma let go of the spatula for a moment and leaned forward to boldly kiss Sarah on the lips. It was a brief kiss but something about it set Emma’s heart on fire. It was as though she had been waiting for that kiss for millennium, but she just hadn’t known it. Pulling back, she stared at Sarah. “That was something.” But then she couldn’t stop herself, being to laugh hysterically at herself. Her voice was breathy and sounded like something like out of a porn movie. Without knowing why, Sarah joined in – their laughter filling the kitchen with a warmth that hadn’t been there before. 

“Sorry” Emma let herself come back. “I just sounded so… weird there.” 

“To be fair.” Sarah corrected. “We sounded weird. But yeah, you kind of sounded like a porn star in that moment.” They both started laughing again before calming down a few minutes later.

“Okay, so it’s settled. We both like each other.” Emma offered, going back to finishing up Sarah’s breakfast. “How do we go about doing this without ruining our friendship and dealing with the fact that you are now committing adultery.” 

Sarah rolled her eyes. “That’s so old-fashioned.” She giggled. “For now, let’s just keep it on the down low. I’m almost finished with my preparations and I’ll be getting ready to divorce Mark very soon, one-month tops.”

“So, you’re telling me I have to wait a whole month before doing the traditional girly and early relationship stuff with you?” Emma asked. It was a tease, but she couldn’t help but feel slightly slighted. 

“Emma.” Sarah’s voice had a tinge of silliness. “I don’t want to lose anything else I’ve put into my relationship with Mark, but I’m not going to have it so that my girlfriend misses out on the early cute relationship things. We’ll just have to be careful about it. We can be as close as we want inside your apartment and when we’re out, we can pretend we’re a pair of very close friends. Just no hand holding.” 

Sarah winked. “That says nothing about kissing in private.”

“It had better not.” Emma smiled, “I have a lot of kisses to give.” She passed along Sarah’s eggs and set about making herself a quick bowl of oatmeal. Within minutes, she was also seated at the main kitchen table, staring at her new girlfriend. It was almost too much to believe. It didn’t feel like a few months ago that Sarah had gotten married and they were still acquaintances, but it had all moved so fast. She considered asking if they were moving too fast, but she kept that to herself. There was no reason to worry about moving too quickly if it was, in fact, fate that brought them together. As she continued staring at Sarah, she felt that warm and fuzzy sensation build in her chest again. Would this become normal? Feeling this happy? She didn’t want to jinx it, but she hoped it would be. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Sarah asked, her eyes never leaving her bowl of eggs.

“How did you do that?” Emma exclaimed.

“Eyes in the back of my head.” Sarah said dryly. “Or I just have a good sense of my surroundings.”

Emma blushed. “Ah, I, um, nothing. I was thinking about how we’re going to go about meeting witch hunters.”

“Very romantic.’ Sarah remarked around her mouth full of eggs. “But a good point. If we want to learn more about the whole situation between the local coven and the witch hunters, we need to start by getting the other side’s side of the story. I know the coven and the witches reasoning of course, but we know next to think about witch hunters.”

“Okay.” Emma was deep in thought. “What do we know about witch hunters so far?” 

Sarah began ticking off things. “We know that there was one that went by the name Henry Adams. We know he was involved with the head of the witch coven at that time, Tanya Burstein and that their child died. We know that the local coven considers them the mortal enemy and that they believe witch hunters wanted to kill everyone, but they don’t give a reason.”

“We also know we saw a witch hunter recently. Harry also mentioned he saw one.” Emma added. 

“And we don’t know what kind of device they have, or if they have any device that tracks magic. We don’t know what their lore says, what their motivations are, or how they become witch hunters.” Sarah said with a sigh. “That’s sort of a lot of stuff to learn.”

“We don’t have to do it all at once though.” Emma encouragingly ate a spoonful of oatmeal. “We can start with one or two things. Like meeting a witch hunter and learning more about them.”

Sarah sighed. “Again, we’re back to how do we meet them?” 

Emma pinched her lips in thought. “Hm, well if they are more conservative and traditional, I would think that we would find them places that celebrate tradition.”

“Please god not a Trump rally.” Sarah groaned, miming banging her head on the table. 

Emma laughed, “Please no. I was thinking more an iconic American landmark. We can go around the ones in Boston. Here there are loads and then we can figure out some kind of dialogue to intrigue them.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows. “That sounds sketchy as all hell.” 

“Do you have any better ideas?” Emma asked. “That’s the only thing I have.”

Sarah reconsidered. “Okay, let’s have that as our Plan 1.5. But let’s please refine it before we go out into the world to use it. I understand that the witch hunters are very different from us and that we will learn a lot about ourselves and all that once we talk to them, but they are still very dangerous. Their actual title involving hunting us down.” 

“Fair.” Emma smiled. “One might actually think you care about our livelihoods.” 

“What can I say.” Sarah smiled. “I do care.” 

They both got back to breakfast but not before Emma again opened her mouth. “We also didn’t really talk about Hilda. What were your impressions?”

“Can I not just eat my breakfast in peace?” Sarah had been halfway to her mouth with another forkful of eggs. But she sighed at the puppy dog eyes on Emma’s face. “Alright. Alright. I liked her. I was a little nervous when she just showed up out of the blue and I thought it was suspicious but as we started to talk. She had some good points. As a witch who grew up in the community, I’m still kind of surprised no one has been asking these questions before. She can’t be the first one.”

“Maybe not.” Emma considered. “But I think most of this stuff gets swept under the rug quickly. Especially during the Cold War, any kind of outcropping that people weren’t within their own camps led to suspicion and people knew that.”

“Fair.” Sarah commented. “I think the whole proxy war aspect is really interesting. It is exactly what happened with the Soviet Union and the United States. It makes me wonder what kind of causes different witches and witch hunters have supported in the past. Like what were they doing and were they doing it because they cared about the cause? Or were they doing it simply because witch hunters supported the other side, you know?” 

Emma nodded vigorously. “I was thinking about that as well. It made me think about certain things my parents were for and against. For example, they were always very supportive of the war protests against our invasion into Iraq and Afghanistan. Did they actually care about that at all? Or did they know that witch hunters supported the Bush administration?” 

“You know witch hunters supporting the Bush administration is not that hard to believe.” Sarah laughed. “It actually really makes sense.” 

Emma paused. “Do you think that we’re going to be in danger from the local coven if we start asking these questions?” 

“Yes” Sarah answered honestly. “I can’t imagine that we wouldn’t. We’re directly challenging the status quo and everything about the local coven here is about tradition.”

“Funny given that’s what witch hunters also seem to enjoy.” Emma murmured. 

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence.” Sarah twirled a strand of her hair in her finger as she thought deeply. “I think the coven here and the witch hunters share one outlook of how history has unfolded. That idea serves both their interests. This never-ending war from their side reinforces all of the ideas they want to keep common their respective societies. When you challenge that, and when you try to make people understand and see each other in a different light, it makes it difficult for them to maintain control.”

“Like Hilda said.” Emma began to put the pieces together. “Fear is an effective way of maintaining control. If witches are frightened of witch hunters and witch hunters are frightened of witches, then neither of us either talk to one another, let alone know how to recognize and communicate effectively and we can’t break the cycle.”

“But why!?” Sarah banged her utensils on the table in frustration. “Why keep us in this cycle if the end goal is just fear and running around in the same circle again and again? What does that solve.”

“It’s not about solving anything.” Emma said grimly. “It’s about keeping us all in line. They don’t want things changing for a reason and we’re going to figure out what it is. We have to. Not only for us, Sarah, but for all of the other witches and witch hunters who are living their lives based on a lie.” 

Sarah stared at her. “And you think it’s up to us?” 

“Doesn’t it have to be?” Emma asked rhetorically. “Who else is there?” 

“Careful” Sarah quietly laid her hand on top of Emma’s on the table. “Don’t fall into the same trap Harry does. It’s not about having to do it, it’s about making the choice to do it because you yourself wouldn’t rest until the thing was done.”

Emma’s eyelids fluttered. “Harry Potter references at the breakfast table. Is there a more perfect woman?” 

Sarah burst into laughter. “Talk about a way to ruin the moment.”

Emma smiled brightly at Sarah, turning over her palm so that their hands were facing one another. “It’s not ruining the moment if we’re both smiling. But I take your point. We’re not doing it because we have to, we’re doing it because now that we know things can be better, we take that responsibility upon ourselves because we want to. As Harry, my favorite literary character said, it is the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high.” Tears formed in her eyes, that quote always made her want to cry. There was all the difference in the world.


	24. Chapter 24

After a few days of brainstorming, Emma and Sarah felt decidedly confident that their Boston and American history teachers would be absolutely ashamed of them. It started with Sarah confidentially stating that Boston was the home to any number of American monuments that harkened back to its history. When Emma asked her to name some, she was met with silence.

“Um, Faneuil Hall?” She offered up weakly. “I know we go there for the market and shopping but isn’t it also a huge monument.” 

Emma laughed, while Googling the location on her phone quickly. “Despite your uncertainty, Sarah, yes, you’d be correct. It says here that Faneuil Hall was the site of several speeches that encouraged independence from Great Britain like Samuel Adams and James Otis.”

“Samuel Adams like the beer?” Sarah quipped, causing them to both break down in laughter.

“Just like the beer.” Emma giggled. “I think there’s also the Bunker Hill Monument. I went there for a hike in college once? I remember something about it being one of the first battles between the United States and Great Britain in the Revolutionary War.” 

“Did we win?” Sarah asked, but then she let out a whoop. “Ah – no we didn’t! I remember being on some ‘Discover Boston’ tour and the cute tour guide telling us that even though we have the monument, the British won.” 

Emma noted that down. “Alright.” She continued. “That’s two. We should probably get a few more before setting out on this quest. How about the Commons?”   
“Is that even a landmark?” 

“I’m fairly certain it is, yes.” Emma scratched her chin, thinking deeply. “At the very least it’s next to a lot of other monuments and the Freedom Trail I think.” 

“That’s three.” Sarah echoed Emma’s count. “And the Old South Meeting House.”

“What the hell is that?” Emma asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”

Sarah held up her phone, where she had been searching for locations. “It says here that it’s at the corner of Washington and Milk and that it was one of the main organizing points for the Boston Tea Party.”

Emma shrugged. “That sounds historic enough for me. In that case, let’s add the Beacon Hill Historic District as a whole. I was going to say the Public Library but obviously that ground is already covered by witches. And I want to go walk around Beacon Hill.”

“Four and five.” Sarah counted. “Let’s try to get two more.”

Emma tried to think back to all of the tours she had originally taken of Boston when she moved here. Of course, when she was taking those tours, she hadn’t thought that she would need to remember these locations. Her memories instead consisted of mostly wandering around as a young adult, hoping that they would pass by a coffee shop so she could get a coffee. She could remember the endless cafes that she seemed to occupy as a college student, the classes and most of the weekends but somehow the history had slipped her by.

“What about the Boston Athenaeum?” She asked on a whim.

“The oldest library in the country?” Sarah double checked.

“I think so.” She said slowly. “I would assume that would be witch territory, but I could be wrong.”

“Well it can’t hurt to check.” Sarah said cheerfully. “That leaves the last one and you can thank one of these tourist websites for this – the Old State House. It says here that it’s at the intersection of Washington and State streets and it used to be seat of the colonial government until 1776 and, how cool is this, it’s where the Declaration of Independence was proclaimed from! I had no idea.” 

“Oh and the Paul Revere House.” Emma tacked on, laughing. “How could we forget about Paul Revere.”

“I think we’re going to have to watch National Treasure again soon.” 

“It’s Nicolas Cage who is the national treasure.” Emma muttered under her breath. “But anyways.” She continued in a louder voice. “That leaves us with eight places to visit. We don’t have to do this all at once but maybe if we group them geographically?” 

Sarah immediately got down to business, plotting all of their locations on a map. “Okay.” She started to say. “As I remembered, Boston Commons is close to the Boston Athenaeum, the Old State House, the Old South Meeting House and to Faneuil Hall Marketplace. The Paul Revere House, Beacon Hill and Bunker Hill are all kind of in their own areas.”

“So, if we have two days for the central ones… like Boston Commons, Boston Athenaeum and the Old State House for one day and then the Old South Meeting House and Faneuil Hall Marketplace for another. And then we have three separate trips for the other three. Does that work?” 

Emma nodded decisively. “I think that’s good. That also gives us some time to, I don’t know, kind of pretend like we’re going to be a couple. I know it’s not exactly the ideal time, but we could try?” 

Sarah smiled, reaching over to grab Emma’s hand. “I would love nothing more. In fact, do you want to start today. It is a Saturday after all. We could make a little trip out of one of these. Which do you prefer?” 

“Hmm” Emma looked at their list again. “Let’s stick local and do the Old South Meeting House and Faneuil Hall today.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Sarah leaned forward and boldly planted a kiss on Emma’s check. She reddened, leaning back and swept a strand of her hair to the side. “Sorry, I just… I’m a touchy kind of girlfriend, you’ll learn.” 

Emma blushed but sent Sarah a cocky grin. “You’re a touchy friend, Sarah. I expected nothing less.” 

The two bundled up and prepared to head out. It was a new Year in Boston and despite the fact that Christmas was often felt to be the coldest time of the year for some, in Boston, that was very much not the case. Christmas was considered early winter. The months of January and February was some of the coldest that the city saw all year round. As they headed out to take the T, their breath frosted into cold clouds of fog in front of their faces. But before long they had made it underground where it was almost unpleasantly warm. Before long, they were downtown and making their way out of State stop. Emma wasn’t regularly downtown in Boston so as they exited, she couldn’t help but allow a smile to cross her face. She wasn’t a city girl, but she found the few tall buildings interspersed amongst smaller older buildings beautiful. The city was busy on a Saturday, its sidewalks clogged with people working an extra shift and tourists here to learn more about American history. The streets smelled like Boston, the drifting scent of freshly baked goods mixing with the smell of pretzel stands.   
They made their way to the Old South Meeting House first, ducking and weaving amongst chatty and pushy tourists and ignoring the calls by vendors to buy their sweatshirts and baseball caps. After paying a small fee for entry, they stepped inside of the building. The Church was smaller than she would have thought, Emma reflected as they quietly walked inside. As a side thought, she grabbed an information pamphlet. 

She and Sarah had done a small bit of research, but it was nothing compared to the wealth of information that visiting such a location represented. As she read through the pamphlet, she smiled. She had no idea that before it was the location for revolution, it was actually home to a Puritan congregation. And, she remarked, as she continued reading, she had no idea that it was home to annual town gatherings to commemorate the anniversary of the Boston Massacre from 1772 to 1775. As she flipped the last page, she again smiled. This she had known. The concept for and meeting in advance of the Boston Tea Party had been held here.

Emma didn’t like to say she was a fan of American history, but she was a pretty big fan of American history. She often forgot the monuments but her fervor for true American history could never be doubted. The Boston Tea Party was one of her favorite times in history because it showed what can happen when people come together and try to make a change. 

“Hey” Sarah whispered as she came up behind her. “Find anyone that looks particularly witch hunter-y?” 

Emma startled. “Oh, no. Sorry. I got a little excited about all of the history here.”

Sarah shot her a slightly exasperated look. “We’re here to find witch hunters Em, not get excited about American history.”

“Who’s to say I can’t do both?” Emma sent her a teasing grin. But as they looked around the Old South Meeting House, she couldn’t say that she spotted any of the traits that Sarah had mentioned. There was no one that looked like they belonged to a militia or that they were carrying a Trump MAGA hat. It just looked like a bunch of harmless tourists who were as excited as she was about visiting a piece of American history. 

She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t see anyone worthwhile.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she watched one particular family whose children were obviously not interesting. While the mother was excitedly gesturing at the walls and ambience of the place, the two teenagers couldn’t have looked less interested. One started mindlessly at their phone, taking selfies, Facetiming or whatever it was the kids did these days while the other shuffled around after their mother looking like their favorite cat had died. Emma couldn’t help herself. She sidled up next to the one on their phone.

“Did you know” she whispered. “That you are standing right on the very spot that James Otis stood on when he called all the Bostonians to begin the Boston Tea Party march?” 

The teenager looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Right here, in the back of the room?” 

Emma nodded sagely. “It might not seem like it now, but actually this whole building was turned around and the revolutionary activity happened in the back to try and give the rest of the congregation some cover.” 

He actually looked interested now, putting away his phone. “Are you some kind of historian?” 

“Some kind of historian.” She agreed. “You should pay more attention to your mom though; it seems like she’s really interested in this place.”

He looked chagrined. “It’s just hard to empathize with people who have been dead for a hundred years.”

“Almost two hundred.” She corrected him thoughtlessly. “Thomas Jefferson died in 1826 or around that time and it’s almost 2026 now.” 

“It just feels so long ago.” He shrugged. “But I’ll try to pay more attention to my mom.”

She smiled. “That’s all I ask. It is something I’m passionate about too.”

He grinned and sidled off. Sarah appeared next to her. “What was that about?” She asked.

Emma smiled. “I don’t know. I just wanted to say something. Also, I was thinking.” She paused. “What if I performed a little magic to try and draw them out?”

“Are you insane?” Sarah asked perfectly calmly. “That would be madness.”

“Not necessarily” Emma explained. “What if I performed magic that seemed like something normal and I did it in a way that wouldn’t draw attention to us.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Just what are you thinking about?” 

Emma smiled. “Okay so. Imagine that we’re here and I wished that the man at the teller gave out the next five tickets free because he was in a good mood. It wouldn’t be all that obvious and it would still draw attention to this place but critically,” and she held up a finger as though to illustrate her point, “It would draw attention to someone who was in line or who hadn’t gotten in yet and not us because it wouldn’t make any sense for us to perform that magic as we already paid for our tickets… I will add without student discount.” 

Sarah sighed, bringing her hands up to the underside of her head and clenching her fists. “I suppose that does make sense. Just… be careful.”

“I always am.” She grinned and wished for the teller to hand out the next five tickets for free out of the goodness of his heart. Then she watched. She heard a few people make excited sounds of shock and pleasant surprise. 

“It also helps that I like making people’s day happier.” She whispered to Sarah who was clutching her information pamphlet with white knuckles. 

“You will be the death of me.” Sarah ground out, watching around them carefully. After ten or so minutes though, nothing had changed. There was no outcry of people wandering around with ticking tracking objects. There was no militia. There was nothing at all. Both of them let out sighs equal of disappointment and relief. 

Sarah swung an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “Well,” She asked. “Should we call that a loss and head to Faneuil Hall?” 

Emma nodded dejectedly, not noticing the teenager she had been speaking to give her a wave as their family exited the building. Emma and Sarah headed to Faneuil Hall, both pleased it was only a ten-minute walk from the Old South Meeting House. They had bundled up in their winter jackets and attempted to resist temptation down the main city streets. Vendors upon vendors offered hot chocolates, pretzels, and other warm unhealthy treats for the unprepared traveler. Eventually they reached the well-known Faneuil Hall. They had both visited this structure many times in their youth, going both for the drinks, the food and the ambiance. It was, Emma remembered, the place where Samuel Adams and other had given many speeches encouraging independence from Great Britain during the Revolutionary War. 

The building itself was beautiful, the white steeple proudly standing above the traditional brick Boston style. It stood almost alone in the square, surrounded by Quincy Market, South Market and North Market with a statue proudly proclaiming its presence. As they approached it, Emma felt almost nervous. She wasn’t sure why, just that a small fear niggling in the back of her mind that someone was watching her. But here, in this place, anyone could be. There was any number of locals doing their shopping, tourists checking out this iconic Boston location and just strangers observing the place. There was no way she could narrow down who was staring in their general direction and pinpoint their intent. For all she knew, it could be a stranger finding she and Sarah attractive. 

Gulping, she stepped forward, more nervous than she would have liked to be. “Can we even go in?” She asked Sarah

Sarah’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure. I think so. But I already feel like we’ve attracted enough attention.” Her voice lowered and she looked at Emma cautiously. “Do you feel that?” 

Emma could only nod. That sense of people watching them couldn’t be missed. She didn’t want to look too suspicious. “Let’s just get some food” She tried to force her voice to be cheerful. 

Sarah nodded, and she hooked arms with Emma as they walked over to Quincy Market to grab some local food. As they both ordered a pastry and hot cup of coffee to warm themselves as they stood in the cold, they began to talk about things other than witches. After all, they were trying to walk that fine line between trying out a new relationship and finding out how they could achieve peace in Boston after all.

As they continued to talk inanely about work, Boston and their lives, Emma couldn’t help realizing that she really loved the city they both lived in. It was chock full of American history and even if she was a little scared about what was to come, it made her feel alive to be surrounded by this much history. She stared at Sarah, wondering as her friend chattered, if she felt the same. If she felt the same humbleness of being surrounded by the shadows and memories of the great men and women who had founded their country. She hoped that she did. Because it was that modesty and humility that was driving Emma to go through this adventure with her. Because it was the feeling that her devotion to American history meant that she wanted to ensure that she helped to bring more peace to its inhabitants. No matter the cost.


	25. Chapter 25

Over the next few weeks, Emma and Sarah attempted to visit as many American history memorials as they could think of. They wandered around the Beacon Hill Historic District and Boston Commons dropping small magic hints. They visited the Bunker Hill Monument, the Boston Athenaeum, and the Old State House. However, it was Boston, so these locations were plentiful and there was far more than the patience that either had. There was no telling just how many locations they could find on the Freedom Trail and as winter began to lessen its grip on the city, Emma found that it was harder than usual to focus on her witchy research. Instead of cold frosty mornings, the winter began to fade to still very cold mornings, but the bone chilling factor had begun to slip away. It was on one such morning that they met up to attend an early morning yoga class. While Emma used to be a common visitor at such classes, she had stopped going over the past few months. There was only so much time in the day and rather than use that time to attend yoga classes, she had been visiting the library, spending time with Sarah and focusing on other aspects of her life apart from yoga. 

But once spring began to peek its head out in Boston, she found that she really did miss those early morning classes. Sarah was absolutely scandalized that they had to meet at 7am on a Saturday. 

“You can’t be serious” She exclaimed as they ate their way through several boxes of Chinese takeout on one such evening. “7am on a Saturday? Are you mad?” 

“It’s yoga” Emma laughed. “I’m mad about it.”

Sarah resigned herself to shaking her head and muttering nonsense under her breath. It was only after several promptings that eventually she signed up for the class. Under protest, she claimed, but she still did it. As they stood outside of the studio, still bundled up in winter attire, Emma realized with a start that she was going to yoga class on a Saturday morning in the center of the city with her girlfriend. Somehow it made the whole situation feel a bit odd. While she was still coming to terms with the whole label of being bisexual, she hadn’t realized that it would be quite so comfortable.

It just shows, she thought to herself, that once you find a label that fits you, it isn’t nearly as hard to be yourself as it was before. 

“Surely class is starting soon.” Sarah whined, looping her arm into Emma’s for warm. “I’m freezing.”

Emma laughed, pulling her a bit closer. “The teacher always arrives 5 minutes before class and only then are we allowed to go in.”

“Honestly, first a 7am yoga class and now you’re telling me that we can’t even be early for it. What kind of nonsense cult is this?” Sarah teased. “Some girlfriend you are.” 

Emma blushed. She couldn’t help herself that every time Sarah used the word ‘girlfriend,’ her cheeks would immediately turn red and she would get a bit hot and bothered. They hadn’t even done anything apart from kiss and hold hands, but somehow the emotional intimacy made their burgeoning relationship ten times better than any hands-on straight man on female relationship had ever been. “Sarah can I ask you something?” 

Sarah nodded, “Of course, but better be quick about it. Class could be starting at any minute.”

“I mean… um, well, what I mean to say is, how are the divorce proceedings coming along?” She didn’t mean to ask so abruptly, but she had been wondering about it for some time, and now right before yoga, seemed as good a time as any to talk about it.

Sarah smiled. “Well I was hoping to leave it for the discussions over our extremely white girl style brunch reservations, but I have officially sent the papers to Mark. He raged for a bit and was really angry, but I explained my feelings about not realizing I wasn’t ready for marriage and used all of my therapist superpowers to explain that it was a mistake. He wasn’t happy about it and wanted to demand counseling but lucky for you and me, I made it a clause in our pre-nuptial that said either of us can demand and receive a divorce upon first request with no questions asked.”

“Damn, you had that in your pre-nup?” Emma giggled. “Sounds like you were ready to be with the right man.”

Sarah shrugged, pulling Emma closer. “What can I say? A girl has to be prepared. We should be separated in a few weeks. I’ve already moved most of my stuff to a new apartment and with any luck, it’ll be over, and I can forget the whole thing like a bad dream.”

“And the stuff about meeting me and finding me again?” Emma teased, pulling her closer so that their noses were touching. “Is that all part of the bad dream?” 

“You know it’s not” Sarah winked, nuzzling her nose briefly. “But let’s save that conversation for after class. I see a first-class Lulu Lemon model walking towards us. I’m ready to get my sweat on.” 

After several giggles and several more downward facing dogs, the class ended and the pair of them walked over to Emma’s favorite diner. It was a classic American brunch diner, where they served chocolate chip pancakes, bacon and two eggs sunny side up. Perhaps the meals they served weren’t particularly healthy, but Emma found that the oil-heavy food comforting after years of indulging. They sat down in a booth across from one another, Sarah a bit sweaty from class and Emma’s blood pumping with the post-yoga buzz. 

“What are you going to order?” Sarah asked, browsing the menu with interest.

“Chocolate chip pancakes and two eggs on the side.” 

Sarah hummed. “And the coffee? Is it any good?” 

Emma laughed, not even bothering to open the menu. “Of course,” She smiled. “Would I take my girlfriend to a restaurant that didn’t serve good coffee?”

“I would hope not.” Sarah huffed. “What treachery that would be early in the relationship” But she flashed Emma a smile as she did so. 

A few minutes later, a harried waiter came by their table, asking them quickly if they knew what they wanted. After some hemming and hawing, Sarah eventually asked for an omelet, cringing when the waiter asked if she wanted that with salsa and sour cream. 

“Eggs with sour cream and salsa.” She exclaimed as the waiter left them. “Can you believe it?”

“What is the world coming to?” Emma teased. “Such horror.” 

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I did have a question, Em. I was thinking about our status. I don’t want to make this a whole issue with declaring us on Facebook or any other social networks but…” And she hesitated, running her hand through her sweaty hair. “Do you think we should tell people? Or does it bother you if we don’t. I just don’t know how to handle this?” 

“Well.” Emma stopped. “Does Mark know?” 

Sarah shook her head. “He asked if there was someone else and I said no. And I don’t think that he thinks that I would be bisexual. We never even went there in our sexual fantasies.” 

Emma burst into laughter. “Thanks Sarah but that’s not information I want to know about.” 

“My sexual fantasies?” Sarah waggled her eyebrows as Emma blushed. 

“I wouldn’t say no to learning about your sexual fantasies, just not the ones you shared with Mark.” 

Sarah nodded sagely. “That’s wise. You don’t know what to know. Speaking of that though, do we want to talk about exes? Is that a discussion we need to have?” 

“Look” Emma began. “I don’t care about people who you were with before. That’s not important to me. What matters is that we’re together now. But back to your first point, I think we can tell whoever we want. But… it’s up to you. You’re the one who is still technically married. I don’t know if you have one of those old-fashioned fidelity clauses in your pre-nup, but that might be something that you want to think about.”

Sarah laughed. “I would never have one of those in my contract. But I see what you mean. Better to wait until he’s at least signed it and I’m out. Then we can be as open as we’d like.” She grasped Emma’s hand. “I know this is all happening fast. I know it can be a bit scary. But I do care about you Emma, and I think we’re lucky that because we’re already such good and touchy friends, we don’t have to worry about people immediately jumping to conclusions.”

“Aren’t you worried about people being homophobic?” Emma asked tentatively. “I won’t lie and say it isn’t something I’m worried about. I’ve never been bisexual openly and I don’t know how to tell people, if I should tell people, or if it’s even something I should care about.”

The waiter arrived, breaking their conversation and served up pancakes and eggs alongside two steaming cups of coffee. “The coffee is endless refills, FYI” He added. “So, don’t hesitate to flag me over.”

Sarah smiled widely. “I will not my good Sir.” After he left, she turned back to Emma. “Back to what we were saying. Em… we live in Boston. We live in one of the most liberal places in America, which granted means we have a lot more luck than other people. We don’t have to worry about people calling us horrible names per say. But I think that we have to be practical. There are people everywhere who think that loving someone of the same sex is unnatural and they want to stop it. We do have to be a bit careful about that, but I don’t think we should let that fear overcome our love for one another.”

Emma smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She reached under the table and grabbed Sarah’s hand. “Because I like showing the world that I like you. And I don’t care who sees.”

This time it was Sarah who blushed. “You’re such a love butt.” 

Emma laughed. “What can I say? I’m affectionate.” They retreated back to their breakfasts, still steaming hot on the plate in front of them. Emma let out a pleasant sigh as she poured copious amount of maple syrup on top of her stack of pancakes. There was nothing better than the scent and taste of freshly made pancakes on a Saturday morning. As she cut off an enormous slice of her stack, she let out another sigh of satisfaction. 

“You know.” She began conversationally. “Next Saturday, you should come by. I’ll make pancakes as well. It’s one of my favorite traditions. There’s not nearly as much oil and great unhealthy nonsense as there is in this but it’s still pretty good.”

Sarah looked up, her mouth stuffed with omelet and wisely nodded. After a moment of chewing, she swallowed. “How can I say no to that? I mostly prefer eggs, but sweet breakfasts have their place every once in a while.”

Emma smiled, turning back to her breakfast. That giddy feeling from deciding to try things out with Sarah was still twirling around in her gut. She couldn’t help herself and the wide smile that spread across her face. She loved this. She loved feeling herself. She couldn’t help that addictive feeling of talking to her girlfriend about pancakes, about breakfasts and about their relationship. It was at that point that she realized that she had never been in a relationship quite like this before. Of course, she had had boyfriends. She had even had Harry for a brief period of time. While that had been enjoyable, there was still an element of pretending, of putting up a mask for someone else to enjoy until they finally got to know the real you many months later. With Sarah, that wasn’t an issue. With Sarah, she was finally truly and completely herself. 

Too soon, they finished their breakfast and headed out in the street. Emma was loath to let Sarah go, but as they reached the T stop and were about to hug, a woman tapped Emma on the shoulder. 

“Sorry can I help you?” Emma turned around, only to notice it was the same mother from a few weeks prior when she had talked with the teacher. Her hair was a radiant dark brown, tied back into a practical ponytail. She had that mother air, carrying a big purse, and wearing mom jeans that a comfortable blouse was tucked into. 

The woman smiled at her mysteriously. “I hear you’ve been looking for someone like me?” 

Emma’s brow crinkled before her eyes suddenly shot open. “Wait. You’re a – “ 

“Yes.” The woman completed her sentence smoothly. “Let’s not say those kinds of words in the main street.”

“And you aren’t trying to kill me?” Emma cautiously backed away.

The woman shook her head. “No, I think we have quite a bit to talk about. Shall we step into Cosi’s?” 

Emma gulped, turning to Sarah to advice, noticing her girlfriend was white with terror. 

“Before you get nervous.” The woman added, “I’m not homophobic. I don’t mind when two women find one another. You won’t find any problems with me.” 

Emma followed the woman cautiously, nervously clutching Sarah’s hand, noticing that both of them were sweating profusely. After ending Cosi’s, they sat down, Sarah and Emma making sure to angle themselves so they could see the exit.

“So, you want to know more about us.” The stranger’s opening statement was phrased more as a demand rather than a question. She waited for Emma to respond.

It took Emma a moment to regain her composure. “Um yes. I just, I’m curious about our history, our shared history that is and I think it’s important to get everyone’s opinion on these kinds of controversial issues.”

To her surprise, the woman laughed. “That’s a very diplomatic way of putting it. Let’s get past this worry. My name is Holly.” She held out her hand. “I know this is very irregular, but I saw you talking with my son and he immediately knew that you were a witch. I raise my children differently than you might expect. I did follow you around for a bit.” She looked unrepentant. “I had to make sure that you weren’t a threat to my children. But then I saw that you were looking for us and well.” She spread her arms out to the side. “Here I am.” 

Emma gulped again, and Sarah gripped her hand tightly before letting go and shaking Holly’s hand. “It’s good to meet you.” Sarah said determinedly. “My name is Sarah, and this is Emma. We have a bit of a long story, but we wish you no harm. We’re just trying to find out answers and we don’t think that our… our type are really willing to provide them.” 

Holly’s smile sharpened. “I wouldn’t think so. You have come to the right place.”


	26. Chapter 26

After a moment or two, they stared at one another. Emma not really sure what to say and Holly uncertain about how to continue. Then Emma took a deep breath, “Okay. So, my main question is why do your type want to kill our type?”

Holly raised her eyebrows, “You just jump right to the point, don’t you?”

“Hey” Emma started, “I just found out I was a witch a few months ago. You can imagine my surprise when I find out there’s a whole group of people dedicated to killing someone like me.” 

Holly shrugged. “I wouldn’t say we want to kill you per say or your girlfriend. In fact, I would think we’re greatly opposed to killing you both. But the rest of your kind have been hurting our people for years. I’ve been trying to ween my children off of the whole ‘kill every witch you see’ type but it is difficult. It’s a community understanding of how the world works. You have a similar belief about us, no?” 

When Emma was silent, Sarah answered in her stead. “Of course, you’re right.” She awkwardly gripped the back of her neck. “I grew up in the witch community. I remember being told horrible stories about how witch hunters were out to get us. About how you had devices that could smell magic and that we always had to be really careful. We.” And she gestured to Emma and herself, “We weren’t raised in a war environment, but I know my mom was. She told us recently all about this.” 

Holly nodded. “That’s been my experience as well. It used to be really bad during the Cold War and the latter half of the 20th century but things have gotten better. I think those of us, and I count myself in this batch, who were raised in very militant-like households, decided that it wasn’t worth it. Of course, I have heard all of the horror stories but never experienced anything myself. I could sense witches here and there, but none ever tried to hurt me or even seemed to know I existed.”

“Could I ask you another question, Holly?” Emma looked thoughtful.

Holly again nodded. “We’re not the first witches you’ve met, are we?” Holly smiled at the question. 

“Very insightful.” She remarked. “No, you aren’t. One of my colleagues from work is a witch. I know of quite a few witches and while I haven’t ever disclosed what I am, I’ve known witches and they in turn have known that I had some kind of knowledge about what they are.” 

“And they didn’t run screaming?” It was Sarah this time who was curious. “Most witches I know are so panicked about witch hunters that I can’t imagine they take anything out of place as good.”

“This didn’t happen in Boston.” Holly smiled. “You’d be surprised. In the south, things like this aren’t as common. Well, I mean the enmity between witches and witch hunters. When I moved here with my husband, I began to see all of the problems. Your local coven really has a problem with all thing’s witch hunters. It’s quite astonishing.”

Emma nodded seriously. “You’re telling me. They don’t like anything that doesn’t fit in their pattern of what should be a part of their cult. I don’t like it at all.”

Holly burst into laughter this time. “You hate the coven? Both of you?” She turned to Sarah to confirmation. “That’s hilarious. I love it. Most of the witches I’ve known have been attached by umbilical cord to their covens and their little circles. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” She added hastily, “I just always found it very cultish for my taste. We as witch hunters don’t really get together all that often. I know that we used to back in the day but now it’s more like we have a Facebook group.”

Emma was speechless. “You have a Facebook group?! For catching witches?” 

“For keeping up with each other. Letting us know of anything mysterious or concerning. Think of it as a local protection militia.” Holly smiled. “Funny isn’t it? When you realize the other side isn’t all cloaks and daggers?”

Emma smiled. “But… why this meeting? Why do you care about talking to us even if we were interested?” 

Holly paused for a moment, scratching at an old stain in her jeans. “Look.” She turned back to face them. “This kind of endless war isn’t good for any of us. I especially don’t want my children being raised in that world. There is.” And again, she hesitated, “Folklore passed through my tradition that speaks of two powerful witches making some kind of change so that we don’t have to hide from one another. And I want that for my kids. I really do. I know we won’t be able to solve everything, but I want to try and solve some things.”

“I can understand that.” Emma said softly, although she tried to ignore the surge of terror when folklore was mentioned. “Maybe we can meet somewhere more private next time where we can be more open?” She ignored the widened eyes Sarah was sending her way. “We could meet at my apartment if you’d like or just a park.”

Holly’s eyes fastened themselves on Emma and she had the strangest feeling as though she was being measured, as though some key part of her was now exposed to the world. After a moment, Holly looked away and she felt strangely relieved. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to offer to have me at your home.” Holly looked strangely touched. “That’s a sign of trust.”

“We have to start somewhere right?” Emma tried to smile but she found her nerves couldn’t handle it.

“Indeed.” Holly agreed. They exchanged phone numbers and agreed to set up a meeting during the next few weeks. Holly had, of course, children so her schedule was not nearly as open as Sarah or Emma’s. 

As they all parted ways, Emma found herself alone on the ride back to her home. Even though it was beginning to turn into spring, winter still held much of Boston in its grip. The conversation with Holly had taken longer than she had intended and as with most evenings in late Boston winter, it got dark early. The streets were, however, well-lit and she wasn’t worried about walking home alone. Her mind was busy wondering about what it meant that they had met a witch hunter purely by accident. That their plan had worked better than expected. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she barely even realized when she reached home.

Jingles gave a welcoming meow and she bent down to give him a stroke. With a quick wish, her home was warm, candles strewn around the living room lit on a second thought and a warm cup of tea made manually. Despite her love of magic, she still thought that some things were better done in the old-fashioned way. And for her, tea was one of them. As she stared around her room, Jingles contentedly purring by her side, she couldn’t help but think that she was so lucky to be living her adventure in the comfort of her home city. 

Think about all of the fantasy stories, she told herself, in which characters had to leave their places of comfort. Of course, that was usually the point. They had to get out of someplace that they were too comfortable in. Take Bilbo Baggins, Harry Potter and the children from Narnia. Their adventures in foreign lands and magical places meant that they couldn’t rely on the things that kept them safe. Emma knew that her adventure was not nearly as story-like, but she still felt so grateful that she could have her daily excursions all the while remaining close to home. As she smiled, she curled her toes deep inside a pair of fuzzy socks and sunk deeper into her couch. 

Her living room was what one would describe as haphazard. Part of the reason she had rented this apartment was because of it. The room was circular in shape, and a cozy couch nestled on one side, blankets thrown across all sides of it, quilts, fleece and knits. An old side table she had found at Goodwill had a lamp and several small stacks of books, papers and leftover pieces of junk. A large television was in the middle of the room so that people could walk around it and through either to the entry hall or to the kitchen. A few pieces of artwork lined the walls but what made this room particularly cozy to Emma was that it had a beautiful old window that stuck out from the circular room like a bay window. It had a little cushion on it for reading, one that by now was very well-used. 

As she sat enjoying the comforts of home, she heard a knock at the door. Interesting, she thought to herself, on a Saturday night? She thought that maybe it could be her elderly neighbor asking again for help with some old device or another. She stood up, placing her tea down and went to open the door.

“Can I help you?” She asked opening the lock.

“Yes” Renee, the High Priestess of the Boston Coven, “You can.” She looked the same as last time, her dark black hair swept up in a bun. Emma thought she looked rather like a very stuff art gallery owner who needed to get out of the office. 

Her eyes widened and before she could slam the door in her face, another witch came forward. She vaguely remembered her as either Evelyn or Carol. “Sarah Kerner is not home, High Priestess.”

“Good.” Renee said, and brushed past Emma into her home. 

“Excuse me” Emma turned around. “I didn’t invite you in.”

Renee raised an elegant eyebrow. “Do we look like vampires?” She took a ginger seat on Emma’s couch, and Emma smiled as Jingles took one look at her and hissed aggressively. 

“Emma. Sister. We came because we are worried about you.” The fake concern was stifling. “We hear that you might be associating with bad people and we want to ensure that you don’t accidently take a bad path.”

Emma raised an eyebrow in return, pointedly not sitting down next to Renee. She didn’t want to give this woman the pleasure to know that she was happy to welcome her into her household. “A bad path, you say. I wasn’t aware I was doing any such thing.” 

“You’ve been in Boulder.” The second witch accused. “You’ve been talking with Caitlyn Ramirez” Emma let out a deep internal sigh of relief. She had been worried for a moment that they had been about to accuse her of talking with witch hunters. That charge she had no answer for. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Emma cut back exasperatedly. “I’m allowed to travel where I like and associate with people.” 

“Yes, but she’s a very powerful witch that we here don’t necessarily approve of.” Renee added in gently. “You have to understand, Emma. You’re new to this. You haven’t been in any kind of witch circle for decades. There are ways of doing things that are accepted and ways that are not.”

Emma looked skeptically at her. “I’m not a part of your coven.” She said slowly. “What don’t you get about that? I made no intention of joining. I still don’t want to join. I’m happy practicing safely at home and alone. You have entered my house without asking, something which I take very seriously. Should I be calling the police?” 

“The police?” Renee laughed; a light tinkling sound that sounded much more malevolent. “What could they do? But” She continued in a placating voice. “I think what Evelyn meant to say was just that there are some unsavory witches out there and they might paint a picture of witch life and our coven in particular in a certain way that we find… displeasing.” She smiled. “You can imagine that we just want to make sure that you have both sides of the story.” 

“Sorry.” Emma said without humor in her voice. “I’m not interested. Send me your pamphlet when you get a chance.” 

“You dare speak to the High Priestess that way?” Evelyn shrieked. “Such disrespect. You can’t even call yourself a witch after the way you behave. We should cast you out.”

“You can’t cast me out Evelyn.” Emma rolled her eyes. “I haven’t joined. Now could you please leave my house. I have plans tonight and they don’t involve talking to you both about witchcraft." As if to illustrate her point, she made a shooing gesture with her hands. 

Renee stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from her backside. “There’s no need to threaten violence.” She made as though to touch Emma’s shoulder. Emma flinched back; the threat implicit in her gesture. She didn’t know much about Renee or her powers, but she knew enough about witchcraft to know that it wasn’t good to let a witch touch you if you could avoid it. Without meaning to consciously, she wished that both of these intruders would just leave and that should could be safe. As she blinked, within a moment, they were gone. 

She blinked again. Nope, still gone. 

Huh, she thought to herself, that was a surprise. Letting out a deep breath, she closed her eyes. Much as she was happy, she had protected herself, she began to be worried that maybe now that they knew the extent of her powers, they would try to do something more. Walking over to her window, she peeked out the blinds, but she didn’t see anything. But what if they came back? Her internal voice had a point. Taking another long inhale, she closed her eyes and wished that those two witches would never again be able to enter her house. It felt as though a warm blanket had descended upon her house, like a warm security system was now making sure that she would never be threatened, at least by those women.

She nibbled at her lower lip. Much as she wanted to call Sarah, something about this situation demanded that she wanted to call her mom. Despite their fights and their struggles, she knew that her mom would have something right to say.

With some hesitation she picked up her phone and dialed her mom’s number. After two rings, she picked up.

“Yes, Emma? Why are you calling me this late on a Saturday night?” She seemed perturbed, as though she was actually concerned about Emma. 

Without meaning to consciously do it, Emma found herself explaining the events of the evening to her mom. She didn’t know quite why but she left out the whole issue of witch hunters. Something told her that her mom wouldn’t understand. And besides, for once, witch hunters weren’t the issue.

Her mom huffed by the end of the story. “Those Boston witches. They are such ridiculous examples of what happens when you subscribe to Groupthink. I can’t believe they threatened you like that.”

“Yeah” She sighed. “I think whatever spell I just cast will keep them out of my house, which is a relief, but I don’t understand why they have to harass me so much.”

Emma’s mom quieted. “There’s something you have to understand about witches, Emma darling. They are attracted to power. Always have been. Always will be. You have to be careful to whom you disclose how powerful you are to. Witches in covens like to collect other powerful witches and now that they know how powerful you are, they will want to add you to their shelf. You can’t let that happen. That’s why…” She hesitated. “I was so worried about Sarah. I thought she would be like her mom. We were friends back in the day and I could see early on how obsessed she was with position and power. It was one of the reasons I blanketed your power although I didn’t explain it to her initially like that. But if you’re happy with Sarah and you don’t think that she’s using you for your power, then that’s not an issue.”

“She wouldn’t, Mom.” Emma assured her. “She’s actually getting divorced because of me?” 

A gasp on the other end of the line. “Are you a homewrecker, Emma?” 

For the first time in a while, Emma found herself laughing on the phone with her mom. “Maybe I am” She giggled. 

A buzz shook her phone. Before she could look at the text, her mom began to speak. “I love you Emma. No matter what.” She added quietly. “It doesn’t matter what choices you make in love or witchcraft; you are always going to be my daughter and I respect and believe in you. Your father and I would really like to see you though so please come up soon. I have to go; your father is taking me out on a date, but I love you and miss you.”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat. These words were the kind of things she had wished for her mom to say for many years. It wasn’t as though they didn’t love each other but there had always been something missing. But now she felt her heart catch in her throat. “I love you too Mom” she croaked. “I’ll text you about coming up soon.” 

They said their goodbyes and she almost forgot to look at the phone, but when she did, she could have jumped in glee. 

[Sarah] 20:17: He signed the papers!


	27. Chapter 27

After Emma received the news that Sarah was finally free of her marriage, she was unsure at first how to proceed. She wanted to run over to Sarah’s house and congratulate her. She wanted to go out on a date, a very expensive and showy date. But then again, she also wanted to just spend the night being happy. Instead of doing any of those things, she called Sarah. After a tearful and excitable conversation, they agreed to meet for lunch at the Boston Commons the next day. One of the positive things that had come out of the whole quest to find a witch hunter was that she felt she had really rediscovered parts of Boston that she forgot. When you live somewhere for a long time, it’s easy to forget the parts of a city that make you love it. With Boston, Emma had always felt a particular kind of kinship. It was the first city she had truly lived alone and the place she now called home.

As she arrived at the Boston Commons the next day, bag of snacks in hand, she took a second to appreciate the public park. It was still emptier than it would be at the high point of summer. A few couples wandered over the grass, pointing at the buildings and taking selfies with their significant others. But apart from that, there was mostly sweet silence, broken by the city sounds that Boston shared with every other city: car honks, the sound of traffic and bike bells. While she was lost in thought, Sarah came up behind her.

“Hey you.” She looked happier than she had in a while. Her whole face was alight with contentedness and Emma realized for the first time just how harried she had looked before. Her hands were no longer clasped rigidly in front of her and her face was relaxed, making it look even more beautiful than before. 

Emma smiled. “Hey yourself. How are you feeling?” She leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek. “You must be over the moon.” 

Sarah nodded. “I really am. I don’t know if you can tell but I just feel like a weight of a thousand pounds has been lifted from my chest. I feel… so free that I didn’t know I felt so burdened before.” 

“I can tell.” Emma grinned. “So, what would you like to do. Sit here and have some snacks?” 

Sarah laughed, brushing an errant hair from her forehead. “And sit on the still frosty ground? No thank you. Let’s sit on a bench.” 

They wandered over to a bench, Emma opening up her bags of snacks, which mostly consisted of chocolate and carrots. Sarah rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her. “You are the consummate health nut.” But she still took a carrot and began munching on it. 

Again silence. It was though they didn’t have anything to say to one another, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. The happiness of the moment just overcoming any need to say any particular phrases or sentences. The final peace of knowing that there was no challenge in this particular moment facing them. 

Eventually Sarah broke the silence. “So, do you want me to change my Facebook status to dating?” 

Emma punched her in the arm. “You had to ruin the moment, didn’t you? We were having a perfectly normal and pleasant moment and you had to jump in with that.” She paused. “On second thought, maybe don’t change it immediately. I mean how would that look?” She giggled. “My mom did accuse me of being a homewrecker yesterday.” 

Sarah laughed. “No, I was joking. We can wait. There’s no rush.” She reached forward to take Emma’s hand. “We can take our time. For once, I’m not worried about how it will look or what anyone will say. I’m happy with you, Emma. You make me so calm and I wouldn’t trade that.” 

Emma just smiled. There was again no particular need to say anything. 

“Can I break our pleasant silence again?” Sarah asked. 

“If you must.” 

“Well.” Sarah drew out the syllable. “I was thinking about talking with Holly. We should be prepared.” 

“Like make a list of questions?” Emma asked.

Sarah nodded. “I already have a few but maybe you have more.” 

“Show me?” Emma leaned forward and read the list that Sarah had made on her phone.

1\. What kind of beliefs did your parents teach you about witches?  
2\. What do you know about Henry Adams and Tanya Burstein?   
3\. Why do you think witches and witch hunters were fighting for the last century?   
4\. How do the magic tracking devices work?  
5\. What kind of folklore do you have?   
6\. How do you become a witch hunter? 

Emma leaned back, deep in thought. “I do think that’s a good list, but we should probably also make sure we ask about what other people in her community think. I mean, I haven’t worked in community building since college, but I remember it’s important to always remember that communities are made up of individuals.”

Sarah nodded seriously. “That’s a good point. We want to make sure we aren’t just getting a random witch hunter who is completely different and isolated from the rest. Otherwise, we won’t be able to ‘bring’ peace”

“I’m still so meh about that whole lore.” Emma sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Like what does bringing peace mean? Colonialists talked about bringing peace and all they did was bring smallpox and war. Bringing peace can be really violent and I don’t want that to be something that we do by accident.” 

Sarah considered it. “I don’t think we will. I think we are conscious enough that it won’t happen.” They stared at each other, bot aware that no one ever meant to bring violence if their aim was to bring peace. 

As they set up their meeting with Holly and the date got closer, Emma couldn’t help but get more nervous by the day. What if they handled it wrong? What if Holly decided that she should turn them in, and they were killed? The only thing that kept her calm in those moments was the realization that there was nothing she could do about it even if that was the case. 

Eventually the day of the meeting dawned. For the first time in a decade, Emma had cleaned her apartment, making sure that the floor was vacuumed, and the kitchen was somewhat tidier than before. Sarah was soothing her by playing comforting music and giving her a much-needed back massage when the doorbell rang. 

She took a deep breath and walked forward through the hallway to open the door. Holly stood outside. She looked more normal than she had last time, as though she was playing the role of the typical Boston suburban mom. A minivan was parked outside on Emma’s street and she couldn’t help but laugh as she noticed it.

“You brought a minivan to our very serious meeting?” 

Holly smirked. “What can I say? I like to break stereotypes. My husband is taking care of the kids today, but I’ll admit it, I’ve gotten attached to my minivan and all the space it gives me. I’m a sucker.” 

“Well come in.” Emma smiled, gesturing inside. Holly hesitated for a moment and then walked on through. 

“I can smell the magic here.” She remarked. “You’ve performed some serious magic here recently.” 

Emma’s eyebrows raised as she shut the door behind her. “How can you tell? Also, tea, coffee or hot chocolate?” 

Holly shrugged. “It’s more of a second sense, like a tingling up your spine that you get when someone is watching you. I don’t know how to describe it, but I just know. Also coffee.” Emma bustled off to make her a cup.

Sarah popped in her stead, “That’s fascinating.” She smiled. “I’m technically a witch academic and of course, we have absolutely nothing on witch hunters in our archives. So, we know absolutely nothing about how witch hunters sense us.” 

As Emma came back in with her coffee, they all sat down. “I’m sure you have some crazy folklore about how witch hunters know about witches.” Holly joked.

Sarah nodded seriously. “We do. We are taught from a young age that you are able to sense us through these tracking devices. And I think,” She gestured between herself and Emma, “That it primarily is thought of like a bomb. Like that it ticks and as you get closer to the witch in question.”

Holly laughed. “It’s nothing like that at all. We all just have this kind of special sense. It is usually genetic. It comes down in families. Like I have it as well as my husband but only one of my children have it.” 

“It almost sounds like a kind of magic.” Emma remarked thoughtfully, “Like it isn’t different per say but a very specific branch.” There was pause. “But that’s off topic. Holly,” Emma started again, “We wanted to talk to you mostly about the differences in witches and witch hunters history. But I wanted to first ask what kind of beliefs you are taught about us.”

“Well.” Holly put down her coffee cup. “We talked about this a little already but we were taught that we’ve always been at war. That witches are these supernatural beings that are inherently evil, that you want to destroy everything. Particularly that you target witch hunters because you know that we want to destroy you.”

“That tracks.” Emma sighed.

“And” Holly continued. “We have been taught that there was this incident back in the early 1900s where a witch faction in Boston went on a killing spree that was targeted at one witch hunter, Henry Adams, that was really good. And the witches knew that they couldn’t kill him because he was just too good. So instead they went for his family and killed his child. After that, the witch hunters banded together and decided that the only way to protect their families from the scourge – sorry – of witches was to make a deal with the devil ourselves. And then we were kind of at peace for the last century. But…” And she trailed off. “It was a weird kind of peace. Like we haven’t been fighting outright but I feel like we’re raised to be in a constant state of readiness for war.” 

Sarah exchanged a grim look with Emma and explained what actually happened with Tanya Burstein and Henry Adams. To her credit, Holly looked very surprised. 

“I can’t say I’m… well, I mean I am shocked. But still!” She stirred her coffee. “I would never have anticipated that. The idea of being with a witch is so taboo in our community that it’s just so ridiculous it couldn’t be true.” 

“And you mentioned folklore?” Emma asked gingerly. It was the one topic she really didn’t want to talk about but she also had to know. “Something about two powerful witches?” 

Holly nodded. “It’s a bit obscure but it’s there. A long time ago, we heard stories about two powerful witches that would make it so that we wouldn’t have to hide. Because in that sense, witch hunters are just like witches. We can’t talk about this huge part of our lives because it’s taboo and we would be worried that witches would kill us.”

“Is it more specific than that?” Sarah asked, sharing a glance with Emma. 

“No.” Holly shrugged. “I only suspected it was you because I don’t know of any other people that have even tried to reach out to witch hunters, which is insane if you think about it.”

“Fear is strong motivator.” Emma said grimly. “I can understand it.” 

“So, what are you planning then?” Holly leaned forward interestedly. “A mass revolt or uncovering?” 

Emma shook her head. “I don’t want anything like that. I just… I just want our communities to get along better. I want it so that we’re not so worried about hiding from one another that we can’t be ourselves. I don’t think prosaic people should know. Who knows what kind of crazy experiments people would do or I mean, the government? Think about the Japanese internment camps. That tells me all I need to know.”

“I mean do you think that’s bringing peace?” Holly asked.

“In a way.” Emma shrugged. “I don’t think it’s right for two communities to completely rely on Sarah and myself, if indeed that is what they’re talking about. But I want to do what I can. I’m” She hesitated. “I’m still having trouble believing all of this business about lore and folklore.”

“Are you saying” Sarah teased, throwing an arm around her shoulders, “That you can believe in witchcraft and witch hunters but you can’t believe in prophecy? What kind of fantasy stories have you been reading?”

Emma playfully leaned into Sarah. “Who knows? It’s just weird when it applies to you suddenly.” 

“Have you ever read the Hero’s Journey?” Holly asked suddenly. Emma shook her head. “It’s the story that talks about the hero’s stereotypical literature journey. The whole tale and the way that all heroes are a certain way. There is a point in most of those stories where the reluctant hero decides that it doesn’t matter why a certain thing is happening, it’s just how you respond.” 

Emma nodded. “I know the trope well. And I agree. I think, I think I’m just realizing how much work it’s going to be. These fantasy stories, their characters are fictional, they have all the time and resources to dedicate to their quests. I’m a woman who has a job, a cat and a girlfriend to take into account.” She stuck out her tongue at Sarah. “Where am I supposed to find the time to create peace in our time? How is that fair?” 

Holly smiled wryly, “Who’s to say stories are any less real than we are? When we read them they are fiction but their stories, their lives are no less important or real than the ones you and I are living. Sure, they’re happening inside a book but does that make them any less real? Every character, every hero, has to give up something in order to pursue their quest. Yes, in fantasy stories, the character is typically a teenager farm boy who leaves home and his comfortable existence. Our life is nothing like that. But you say you have your job. I’m not saying give that up. I’m just saying re-prioritize. Think about what is important. You are your own protagonist.” 

Emma stayed silent for a moment. Despite her fears, she knew that Holly had a point. It wasn’t that she had to do it. In fact, she had already made the choice to pursue this new path in her life. It was just a matter of making time, of making choices. That’s not to say choices weren’t scary. They were. But she found, that as she sat at home, surrounded by her girlfriend and hopefully a new friend who would be willing to help, if you didn’t have to be alone in those choices – they weren’t so scary after all. 

She turned to Holly and Sarah and took a deep breath. “I’m not going to pretend I have any of this figured out. If I am the protagonist, I’m a pretty shitty one early on in my character arch. I still have a lot to learn and I’m probably going to make a lot of mistakes. I don’t know if you want to help,” And she held both their gazes, “But if you do, I think it would make this quest so much easier.”

Holly frowned. “There’s nothing in folklore about a witch hunter and two witches.”

“Fuck the folklore.” Emma shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we take matters into our own hands and I think we can do that better together.”

Sarah nodded, smiling quietly. “Who could say no to that?” And as she looked around the room at the two other women, Emma couldn’t help but feel the spark of hope deep within her chest.


	28. Chapter 28

Even though it felt like days since their conversation, Emma knew it only been one. She had woken up the next morning energized and ready to act. It felt like she was full of lightning and she itched for it to go somewhere. This had happened to her before when she had prepared for a test or a particularly important task before. That buzzing inside of her body. That twitchy sensation that started in her fingers and very stereotypically went down to her toes. So, that was not to say she didn’t have coping mechanisms. When this had happened in the past, she had deferred to running. She hated running. It was one of her least favorite ways of spending her time but in times when she felt aggressively energetic, running seemed to do the trick.

So, despite it the fact that it was cold, despite that it looked absolutely horrid outside, she dressed up in her running attire. It always felt a bit like a costume, something that strangers would put on in order to pretend that they were part of the running tribe. Compression leggings, compression socks, a sports bra, a jacket and running shoes. Athletic wear naturally depended on what you preferred but this running outfit made Emma feel as though she was running in the Boston Marathon. The thought caused her to giggle as she got her final touches in order and stepped out of the door.  
The cold air hit her face and she shivered, letting out a little groan. With each breath, her exhale fogged the air in front of her so that her vision was temporarily obscured. Luckily, she didn’t wear glasses so there was no concern that the condensation would form and actually cover her vision. Then she started to run. 

The first ten minutes of any run are the worst. They are moments when you are still very aware of every step, every heave of breath in your lungs. You are still getting your pace under control and you aren’t quite sure how long you want to run yet. Are you going to just stop after ten or fifteen minutes? Or are you going to go for a longer run? When winter arrives and you have still decided you’re going to undertake this masochistic task, you also have to deal with the immediate cold. The problem with running in winter is that for the first ten minutes, again those first horrible ten, you are still a bit cold. Your body hasn’t yet acclimatized to the new temperature and so your quick breathes are also interrupted by a frantic shudder. Boston winters in particular are not pleasant for runners. For Emma, she often wondered how so many of these people could seemingly go about happily, chatting with one another in the freezing cold in preparation for the Boston Marathon. But somehow, they persisted and as she just about hit the ten-minute mark, she felt a surge of motivation and endorphins. If she had already come ten minutes, then she could go another ten more. And that was the majesty of running or any kind of exercise, she thought to herself fiercely. If you could get through the first moments, then the pay-off was more than reasonable. 

Surprising even herself, she ran for another twenty minutes, making a large circle around her neighborhood until she arrived back at her apartment, out of breath, cheeks red but with a happy smile on her face. If this only happened every so often, then it couldn’t be that bad, she smiled to herself and got on with her day of work. 

Of course, the next day was not so pleasant. After waking up with a groan, she realized her legs were so sore she could barely walk down her stairs without wincing. Jingles gave her the most baleful look as she winced again bending down to feed him.

“Don’t judge me!” She huffed as she slowly fed him. “This is harder than it looks.” Jingles, however, had no such compunction and meowed plaintively until he was fully fed. 

As she hobbled over to the desk where she could get a bit of work done, she smiled without meaning to. Sarah was coming over for dinner tonight and they were going to test their powers together and have a semi-date. It was sometimes difficult to separate their work from play, but there was something nice about having her partner in crime also be her romantic partner. It meant that accomplishments in magic could be celebrated with a kiss or a cuddle. 

Sooner than she expected, Sarah arrived, using her own key to enter the apartment. “Emma” She called as she stepped inside, “Where oh where are you?” 

“In here.” Emma called from the office space. “I’m having a bit of trouble moving.”

Sarah poked her head in. “Trouble moving?” Her brow creased. “Did something happen?”

Emma had the grace to look abashed. “I decided to go running yesterday.”

Sarah burst into laughter. “And now you’re having trouble moving. Did you stretch?” 

“Well no” Her cheeks coloring, she covered her face with her hands. “I forgot. And it was so cold, Sarah. I didn’t know what to do and now I’m practically handicapped.”

Sarah again laughed, coming in to plant a kiss on top of Emma’s forehead. “Silly Emma. Have you considered using magic to solve it?” 

“Can I use magic to get rid of sore muscles?” She asked, “I thought that would somehow be breaking the tenants of magic.”

Sarah shot her a look. “You think there are any tenants when it comes to you? Normally I would say that you should just tough it out but since we’re here to practice magic, I figure why not try it out?” 

“You’re a horrible influence.” Emma stuck her tongue out but resolved to give it a shot. 

“Actually” Sarah interrupted her before she could start. “Let’s try something.” She leaned forward and placed her hands gently on Emma’s sore hamstrings. “I’m going to do some witchy praying and we’ll match it with your wishing to see if there is any difference per leg.”

“First of all.” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow. “Witchy praying? But secondly, leg by leg?” 

“Are you a scientist or not?” Sarah quipped. “And yes, witchy praying is what I always call it. It’s just praying to the Goddess that she will be with you. It’s sort of how you start any of my more traditional magics. So, I thought it might be a good idea to test it out.” 

Emma nodded slowly. “That’s a good point. Okay, then let’s start with the left leg because it is absolutely killing me. You place a hand on my hamstring and one on my quad and then we can have your witchy praying alongside my witching.”

They set up, Sarah blushing as she placed her hands gently on Emma’s hamstring and quad while beginning to pray internally. Emma closed her eyes and wished that her left leg would no longer be sore. As she opened her eyes, she gave her leg an experimental shake. With wide eyes, she turned to Sarah. “The pain is completely gone.” She whispered. “I feel completely fine, but only in my left leg.”

“Hmm.” Sarah quirked her mouth. “Then let’s try something else. On your right leg, I want you to just wish by yourself so we can test how much different our magic works together than just you.”

Emma nodded. That seemed logical. She quickly wished that her right leg would also feel better. After a moment, she also gave that leg an experimental pulse and tighten. Her brow also furrowed. “I mean.” She hesitated. “This is difficult to explain. It does feel better but almost as though it only feels that way superficially. It’s not that the muscle has completely healed but rather than I just dulled the pain.”

“Interesting.’ Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “So together our magic was able to be much more powerful than just yours alone. Do you think that’s because your magic is just acting superficially because you didn’t specify your own wish well enough?”

“You mean” Emma thought. “Because I just asked for it to feel better rather than wishing for the muscle to be healed?” 

“Exactly” Sarah nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking but maybe when we work together, you don’t have to be as specific because the magic takes my wishes into account.”

“And were you wishing particularly for my leg to be healed?” 

“Not necessarily.” Sarah shared, leaning back on the floor. “But I did pray that your legs would recover.”

“So, you think it’s in the wording?” She postured.

“Maybe?” Sarah shrugged her shoulders. “Being specific has always been something that was important in older more traditional witchcraft. That’s why we have so many spells and traditions. Because they were honed over generations and decades of usage.”

“That tracks.” Emma agreed, standing up to test her legs newfound ability to move without causing her serious pain. “I think then with mine, the wording does matter too. Even though it seems like it is easier without the traditions, I still have to be cautious with my words and by working with you, I am able to not have to do that because you have the tradition and the history of doing that with your prayers and magic. Actually, Sarah I’m thinking. What other kinds of magic do you have? Like in terms of other rituals?” 

“Why do you ask?” Sarah allowed herself to be pulled up by Emma and dragged onto the couch for a cuddle. 

“I’m thinking that maybe we could test out your rituals with my magic and wishing as a back part to it.” Emma said this while pulling Sarah close. 

Sarah nodded as much as she could while clutched in Emma’s tight embrace. “We could do that. I’d have to go looking in the grimoire.” 

“Wait.” Emma shot up, destroying their cuddle and ignoring the look that Sarah shot her. “You’re telling me you have a grimoire. Like the witches in Charmed? Like the witches in practically every television show and book I have read in the past?” 

Sarah laughed, pulling down Emma to the couch and to earth again. “I mean every witch has a grimoire but all it is a book of your favorite spells, rituals or whatever. It’s sort of like the witch equivalent of a diary or a recipe book for your family. My mom has one. I have one. But mine isn’t really used too much since I stopped using magic so magic.”

“Are you using magic more?” Emma asked curiously. “Since you and I have been talking and thinking about it more?” 

“A bit.” Sarah smiled. “It’s harder for me. I’m used to these complex rituals that require planning. I can’t just do magic.”

“How do you know?” 

“Well.” Sarah started. “That’s always how I’ve done things.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at her. “Really? That’s your excuse. Come on, Sarah. You’ve never wondered if you could try something else?” 

Sarah shifted uncomfortably. “Well, no. I just always believed I knew what I could do and left it at that.”

Emma sighed, leaning forward again to hug Sarah, kissing her slowly on the cheek and then on the lips. She pulled away so that their faces were only inches apart. “Sarah Kerner. I truly believe that your magic is more powerful than just rituals. I believe that your magic will manifest in all the ways you want to. Actually! Let me try something.” 

Before Sarah could stop her, Emma wished that Sarah was able to cast spells without preparation, that her magic was able to be as mobile as Emma’s. As she opened her eyes, nothing about Sarah had changed but she had a strange look on her face. 

“Did you do something?” She asked curiously. “I feel a bit weird. Almost like a strange eel.”

“An eel?” Emma said shooting her a deadpan look. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

Sarah smiled, self-consciously tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I just feel, I don’t know, like an eel floating in the water. It was the most apt thing I could come up with on the spot.”

“I may have wished for something but before we know and before you get angry at me, I want you to try and cast the simplest thing you can think of that normally requires preparation.” 

Sarah shot Emma a look before thinking. “Well I could do my version of the Accio spell.” Emma nodded encouragingly.

Sarah closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. “My backpack. My backpack. Come.” Before Emma could make fun of Sarah for that particular ‘spell’ – a backpack came slamming into her back.

“Oh my god, Emma.” Sarah shrieked. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect it to actually work. Holy hell. That was surprising.” 

Emma groaned, noticing that Sarah was holding her shoulders up. “That came slamming into me.” She accused. “Were you trying to kill me?”

Sarah grinned modestly. “Well normally that spell requires me finding a piece of whatever I’m looking for, soaking it in a solution of thyme essence for an hour and then chanting its name twice and then asking it to come. I didn’t expect it to actually work. I’m gathering you wished for something about my magic to change?” She bopped Emma on the nose threateningly. “That was very rude. I’m not going to say anything bad because that was exhilarating but you should really ask before practicing any magic on another person. It’s considered very rude.”

Emma felt abashed. “Sorry.” She said in a small voice. “I just wanted you to feel more… well more like the powerful witch you already were.”

Sarah’s gaze softened. “I know Em.”

“Also” Emma interrupted again. “That qualifies as a spell? It sounded like you were calling Fido the dog.” 

Sarah giggled, her excitement showing her eyes. “I know right? Magic is so weird. I feel like sometimes I understand it and other times I really don’t. It’s honestly ridiculous.” 

Without meaning to, they both suddenly started laughing. It was nerve-wracking to think that they were the two witches meant to change everything and here they were summoning backpacks and figuring out together how to be powerful, random step by random step. Between her laughs, Emma looked at Sarah properly for the first time since she had entered the apartment today. Her girlfriend, the words still caused the butterflies in her stomach to flutter, looked so beautiful, so happy and so herself. She couldn’t help it. She leaned forward, both hands on Sarah’s cheeks and pulled her into a deep kiss. She could feel Sarah’s surprise and then breath of acceptance as she pulled Emma closer in an embrace as they kissed. 

“I’m really starting to get a feel for this girlfriend thing.” She said quietly as they pulled apart.

“Me too.” Sarah agreed, her eyes roving around Emma’s face. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Emma blushed. “You’re stuck with me.”


	29. Chapter 29

Somehow as she spent more time with Sarah and less time wrapped up in anxiety about meeting these unknown standards of lore, Emma found herself more comfortable with herself than she had been in a long time. There was something freeing about knowing she could be herself without hiding certain or specific parts of her. And with Sarah, she had that freedom. It meant she didn’t have to worry about whether or not Sarah was jealous about her getting a coffee with Harry or Holly. She didn’t have to worry about hiding the weird parts of her, or the magical side of herself. It felt good. 

This freedom in her personal life meant that she also had more time to spend thinking about Holly and about the witch hunter problems. Their communities were so different, so diverse in nature that it was, at first, difficult to conceive them coming together at all. But as the weeks and conversations between herself and Holly grew, Emma found that maybe it wouldn’t be too difficult after all. In the end, they were simply women. Well, they were people. The fact that some of them were witches and other of them witch hunters did not really matter. 

As these thoughts swirled through her mind, Emma got a surprising message from Holly one day. With her blessing, Holly wanted to reach out to other witch hunters and figure out if others shared her opinions. With a sigh, Emma picked up the phone. This was a conversation that she wanted to have on the phone rather than over text.

“Do you think that’s safe?” She asked hesitantly without any greeting. She had found that Holly was not one to mince words. 

Holly sighed on the other end of the line. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I was thinking about just one or two hunters who I’ve known for some time. It wouldn’t be dangerous as I could approach it really carefully and do so in a way that protected me from the backlash.”

Emma nodded, humming agreement into the phone. “Definitely.” She paused, “Just do be careful. You have kids, Holly and I want to make sure they are safe. Don’t endanger them.” 

Holly laughed. “I won’t, Emma. You witches worry too much. These hunters are friends, if they do react badly – it would just be that I would have to walk back my statements. It’s no problem.” 

They said their goodbyes, which left Emma to again become lost in her thoughts. What would this bring? How would these opportunities pan out? Over the next few days, she found that she was constantly thinking about hunters. During their conversations, Holly had told Emma much about how their folklore worked in tandem with American History. According to Holly, witch hunter history went back as far as the founding of the American republic. Interestingly, it was separate from witches. While witches traced their lineage back eons, hunters were very nationalist. American hunters did not work with European hunters are vice versa. While Holly had mentioned that she knew there were hunters worldwide, they did not cooperate. Instead, they were rather loner in nature. There were American councils and groups similar to witch covens, but they met rarely and they only sent messages out reporting of witch sightings or danger. 

When Emma had asked more specifically, Holly had also told her about how hunters considered themselves intrinsically linked with the American revolutionaries. “They were there from the beginning.” She had said. “We think of ourselves as the supernatural support that the Americans didn’t know they needed. There were so many witches at that time practicing openly and the hunters believed that because they were practicing so openly, the Americans needed our help to shut that down. At the time, they were very Puritan, so it worked both ways.”

“And so, you were involved from the beginning but how did that work with freedom of religion?” Emma had asked. 

“Do you consider witchcraft religion?” Holly had laughed. “Because the revolutionaries did not.” 

She continued to explain how hunters had continued to work with people throughout American history. They didn’t just work with the revolutionaries, but they also worked with people on both sides of the Civil War. This was fascinating to Emma. 

“So, were they on the sides of the Confederates or the Union?” She had asked.

“Both. Brother against brother.” Holly looked more solemn than she had before. “It wasn’t just the country who torn apart but the hunters as well. Some of us believed that slaves were an intrinsic part of their culture and others believed it was wrong. I think it really tore the hunter community apart. And even during reconstruction it was still hard to really feel like you knew your own family.” 

“And it was the two World Wars that really brought the community together again.” Emma worked out in her head, furiously doing calculations. “Because they had an external enemy – Germany and the witches.” 

Holly nodded. “Exactly. It’s easier to think in terms of dichotomies.”

“That goes for witches and witch hunters alike.” Emma agreed.

This conversation was stuck in Emma’s mind as she hung up the phone from her call with Holly and over the next few days. She wondered if she had met a witch hunter before, whether they had known she was witch and how people today felt about the events of the past. Communities varied so much when it came to how much they associated their identity with parts of the past. Were there still factions within the witch hunter community that identified more with the South or with the North? Did that division somehow mean that one side was more amenable to peace with witches? She wasn’t sure. After a few days of silence, Holly let Emma know that there were two hunters who expressed interest. 

“We should meet somewhere public.” Holly unfortunately acknowledged. “They are intrigued but they want to make sure that they are safe. So, it needs to be somewhere public and neutral.” 

“How about Cambridge?” Emma suggested. “I know a few nice places in Harvard Square.” 

Holly agreed and they set a meeting for the weekend after next. It would be Sarah, Emma, Holly and two additional witch hunters. As the date arrived, she found that she was becoming more and more nervous. What if they didn’t like her? What if it was an elaborate trap? 

“You’re being silly.” Sarah soothed her one evening. “And to be honest, Em, there’s nothing you can do about it even if it was. Part of bringing people together is about trust. Let’s trust Holly. Let’s trust them. And if not, we have each other. I have faith that we will be okay.”

Emma bit her lip. “I know logically that there’s nothing I can do, I’m just nervous. Maybe some more coffee with calm me down.”

“Sure” Sarah drew out the last syllable. “I’m sure that will help.”

Emma shot Sarah a grin. “I had to try.” 

But the evening went by faster than Emma had anticipated and soon she was waking up on a crisp Saturday morning for coffee with three witch hunters. The ride on the T across to Cambridge Emma spent on her phone, trying any and all applications to distract her from the upcoming meeting. Candycrush. Instagram. Facebook. All of them worked briefly before she again would start thinking about the meeting.

“Maybe I should have prepared something.” She said to Sarah as they got off the train. 

Sarah wrinkled her nose. “I hate the smell of this station.” She started conversationally. “It always smells horrible but no.” She took Emma’s hand in her own. “Just take a few deep breathes and be yourself. The whole point of this is to make friends, to make connections. You can’t do that if you’re reading from a script. We want to be genuine.”

“Shouldn’t you be more nervous?” Emma asked. “I mean you’re the one with the witch history.”

Sarah shrugged. “Probably. But I self-medicated with CBD this morning so I’m much more relaxed than usual.”

Emma’s jaw dropped open. “You self-medicated? Sarah!” She paused. “And you didn’t ask me to join in?!”

Sarah dreamily smiled. “I can still function. You, my dear, cannot. I know your history with weed and CBD. I wasn’t about to risk you fainting or having something horrible happen because you overdid it and let’s face it – you always overdo it.”

Emma blushed. “That’s fair.”

They rounded the corner to finally reach the café that Emma had suggested. Pavement Coffeehouse had been along as long as Emma had gone to school in Boston. She had often come to study at this café, lugging her bag full of heavy books along with her. The staff had always been incredibly patient with her, understanding that after two coffees, she didn’t have much more extra cash on hand. She had even befriended the cook, and he had often sent out free croissants at the end of a long day accompanied with a wink or smiley face. In fact, Emma often thought her college experience would not have been complete with this small café to help her along. It was no surprise she had chosen this location. She wanted somewhere that made her feel at home. 

As they entered the café, Emma immediately saw Holly sitting with a older couple. They looked like the kind of athletic and active couples that she had always thought she would be. The woman looked as though she was about to go on a strenuous day hike, her blonde hair drawn back in a ponytail, her hiking boots and socks plastered with Boston University logos. The man similarly looked like he was about to go on an expedition, his attire suggesting that after this meeting, they would both go scale Mount Everest. Gulping down her fears, Emma raised her hand at Holly who beckoned them over with a smile.

“Emma, Sarah.” Holly said warmly, “This is Pete and Jasmine. They’re old friends of mine.” 

Emma turned to Pete and Jasmine, noting that both seemed slightly on edge but shot them both friendly and open smiles. “Nice to meet you.” She said, holding out her hand. “My name is Emma, and this is Sarah, my girlfriend. Thanks for coming here.”

The man broke the potential moment of awkwardness first, leaning forward with an easy smile not at all in harmony with his nervous body language. “Nice to meet you, Emma. I’m Pete and this is my wife, Jasmine. Have a seat and join us. Have you been to this café before?” 

Emma blushed as she sat down. “Oh yes. I used to study here during college. Hours and hours spent here trying to figure out how computers work. It’s sort of a love-hate relationship but I’m a fan.” 

Jasmine smiled. “Ah a computer geek. I’m a programmer so I completely understand where you’re coming from. May I ask your specialty?” 

“UI Design.” Emma shot her a smile. “So semi-coding but mostly design thankfully. And Sarah here is a psychologist/therapist. I’m never sure which is which.” 

Sarah nudged her playfully. “I’m a psychologist.” She introduced. ‘Sarah” 

There was an awkward silence for a moment before Emma took the plunge and plowed forward. “So, I’m not sure what Holly has told you about us apart from the obvious. But we’re just trying to open up the conversation between our communities and be a bit more open and not just staying with the dichotomy of us and them.”

Pete nodded. “Yes, Holly mentioned. We both naturally agree. I’ve been a hunter for many years, but I’ve always found the anger and hatred from our community really toxic so once I met Jasmine, I really took a step back from all that but of course, we want to be able to talk and not fight.”

“Is this your first-time meeting one of us?” Sarah asked curiously. “You seem strangely okay with it.” 

Jasmine smiled. “It is our first-time meeting one of you politely. Of course, I see witches all around town, but my senses are very heightened compared to my husbands but if I don’t see any trouble, I just live my life and let you live yours.” 

Emma smiled nervously back at her. “I think I just want us to not fight anymore. There’s been this cold war between our sides for so many years now and I can’t help but think that it’s not productive and that the leaders, well I’ll speak for the leader of the Boston coven, who most assuredly is NOT my leader, are trying to perpetuate this hatred to maintain control rather than there actually being an issue. I mean you wouldn’t believe some of the horror stories we were told about hunters.”

“It’s complicated.” Pete drank his coffee. “I have never been a violent person but when you are brought up in a society that only teaches and preaches violence, then you can’t help but use that as your first form of contact. I would agree with you that our leaders definitely continue to spread the message that we must always be ready, always prepared for engagement. Almost as though we are at war, but I don’t see why that is. We’re sitting here perfectly calmly talking like adults – why do we need to have supervision essentially? It will be hard.” He continued after a moment. “To convince the other hunters, I want you to know that. Jasmine, Holly and I are exceptions to the most of them. But if we have meetings like this, it could be okay.” 

Emma chewed her lip, holding Sarah’s hand tightly. “What do you think is the most productive way to go about this? My understanding is that if we want our communities to become closer, then we need to talk rather than preach so I’m asking you what do you think will be the best way?” 

Pete shared a look with Jasmine. “Meetings like this.” He said honestly. “Having these kinds of small interactions will go a long way to changing some of the stereotypes that we have against one another. I mean, Holly mentioned there is you two but what about other witches? How should I know to trust them? Are you working from that angle as well?”

Sarah shook her head and squeezed Emma’s hand to jump in. “Not yet, no. It’s complicated though because the Boston coven is so cultish for lack of a better term. We thought we’d talk with you first and get one thing covered at a time.”

“But you need the rest of the witches.” Holly added. 

“Because otherwise how can we trust any peace deal?” Jasmine agreed. “We can sign individual ones but that would get out of hand, I think.” 

Emma threw up her hands in the air. “We have to do something.”

Sarah laughed, immediately bringing a marked lightness to the air. “Sorry” She addressed the three hunters. “My girlfriend is always about short term gratification. Babe, this will take time. You can’t solve the world’s problems in one day.” 

“Yes, Emma. If I may call you that.” Jasmine smiled jokingly, “You can’t. But what you can do is start with what you have. And you have us. We’ll have to work together to solve this, but I do believe that we can all exist together. Otherwise so much of what makes our lives special will vanish and I think we have to try.”

Emma looked around the table, at the collection of witches and witch hunters who all seemed to think that together they would be able to make some small advance in finding that pipe dream that peace sometimes seemed to be and suddenly it didn’t feel as daunting.


	30. Chapter 30

As the winter months eventually turned to spring, Emma was surprised by the long and turbulent winter that they seemed to be experiencing this year. This had happened a few years prior, when snow had continued to rain down on Boston until late March, but it still took her by surprise. But then again – it was a good surprise. On one such Monday morning in late March, she peeked out of her window. There was no snow, per say, but there was a light covering of frost on the windowsill and as she opened the window slightly, she let out a curse. It was freaking cold today! 

She wandered down the stairs to her kitchen, turning on the news to listen to the weather report. “High of 35 with a chance of snow showers later in the afternoon,” the reporter said, smiling. “Look out Boston! You’ve still got a chance of a half snow day – parents, be aware!” Emma let out a wry smile. She remembered how snow days were such an important part of her life as a student. Now as someone who worked at home, snow days meant absolutely nothing unless the power went out and she could legitimacy not access the internet. But how likely was that to happen? 

She went through the steps of her morning routine, listening to the news in the background before getting set up on her computer. Luckily, she just had a few projects to work on today and she could take her time ensuring that everything was right. Without further ado, she dug in. It wasn’t until a few hours later that she looked up from her computer and outside the house. A light snow was beginning to dust the sidewalk and fill up the street. With a smile, she leaned back in her chair. Snow meant the start of a lighter day. But then out of nowhere, her phone rang.

She picked up on the first ring. “Hello?” 

“Emma. Honey.” Her mother’s voice sounded rushed and worried, as she took short and harried breathes. “I don’t want to worry you but, your father and I, well we’re in a bit of a situation.” The phone suddenly clicked off, a static buzz showing Emma. She cried out in surprise; her eyes wide. Her family was in trouble? Was someone attacking her family? 

She immediately dialed Sarah. “Sarah.” She almost cried into the telephone. “Something is wrong with my parents. I have to get to Vermont immediately. Can you come?” 

“Take a deep breath, Em.” Sarah’s soothing voice came through the phone. “Think clearly. You don’t have to go to Vermont. Just summon them here.” Then Emma also heard something break in the back of the phone call. “Hey” She heard Sarah say. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” And then let out a shriek.

Emma closed her eyes and took a momentary deep breath. This was happening. She had to do something. Without hesitating a moment longer, she wished for her parents and Sarah to appear in her apartment – taking them out of any kind of dangerous situation they were in. When she opened her eyes, she almost cried out. 

Her mom was being supported by her dad, who looked more serious than she had ever seen him before. They were both bleeding from cuts and slashes in their forehead. Her mom’s gaze, initially guarded, immediately softened upon seeing her. “Emma.” She said in relief. “Thank goodness you got to us in time. We were being attacked by – “And she hesitated. “Other witches.” 

Emma let out a little surprised gasp that turned into a sob of relief when Sarah’s head popped out from behind her parents. “Em.” She smiled warmly; her breath knocked out of her chest as Emma rushed forward to engulf them all in a hug. “No injuries.” She held her hands up. “I’m okay.” 

“Thank god.” Emma let out a sigh. “Were witches attacking you as well?” 

Sarah shrugged. “I’m not sure. I was just sitting at home and then I saw someone in the entryway of my doorway looking like they were about to rob me when they knocked something over.” 

She relaxed. “So, it might not have been the coven?” 

Her mom leaned forward. “We haven’t been properly introduced, Sarah. My name is Naomi – I’m Emma’s mom but I’m sure you knew that, and this is my husband Gerald.” 

Sarah awkwardly shook both their hands. “This isn’t the way I expected to meet my girlfriend’s parents but hello.”

Staring between the two of them, Emma wanted to do nothing but laugh. She had been putting off this meeting out of an unnecessary fear that it would somehow go wrong. And despite the fact that she didn’t want her parents to be attacked, or Sarah for that matter, she couldn’t help but admit that it did solve something that had been immensely worrying her. 

“Mom.” She said, gesturing to the couch. “Sit down.” The word ‘mom’ sounded weird on her tongue. Emma and her parents had always had a very formal relationship, she had called them mother and father. They had not been overly physically affectionate when she was a child. But now, something felt different. They had been attacked because of her. They had been targeted because of things she was doing here. 

“Are you okay?” She continued, “Can I get you some tea.” 

Her mom smiled, looking different than she remembered. “A tea would be nice.” With no reservations, Emma immediately wished for a tea – ginger with lemon – for her mom to be holding. Without looking at her mom, who had let out a little shriek. “Dad?” 

He eyed her almost a bit warily. “Coffee please with two sugars.” She again wished for that and for the second time ignored his gasp and then lastly turned to Sarah. 

“Hot chocolate for you, babe?” 

Sarah’s smile could have lit the Christmas trees in New York. “You know me.” Emma took her hand and closed her eyes for one last time, wishing for two large steaming mugs of hot chocolate just as her mom made it to appear in front of them. Unlike her parents, Sarah let out no such shriek. She merely squeezed Emma’s hand and turned back to her parents.

“Naomi, Gerald. I’m sorry we had to meet like this.” She admitted. “But I hope you’re doing okay. Your daughter is really doing amazing work.”

Her mom smiled. “Thank you for saying that Sarah, we’re just glad to be okay. I’m not sure how much longer we could have held up against the assault.”

“Assault.” Emma leaned forward. “What? Explain please.”

Her mom turned to her dad with a helpless expression her face. He touched her gently on the shoulder. “I’ll explain.” He looked at his daughter and Sarah. “Our home is very heavily warded. You wouldn’t have noticed, Emma but it always has been. Even though we haven’t made the best decisions in regard to your magical upbringing, we always made sure you were safe at home. Over the last week, we’ve been…” He visibly swallowed. “We’ve been feeling as though someone was attempting to attack us. But we figured we were imagining things. No such thing has ever happened before. But we were worried that witch hunters had found us. But then again, the attacks weren’t what witch hunters would do. I found a hex bag in my car and your mom found a hex designed to trap her in her work office.”

“Hex bags?” Emma asked, turning to Sarah. 

“Later” She mouthed and turned to her dad.

He continued, holding her mom’s hand tightly. “So, like I said, we’ve been on edge. We didn’t know what was going on but we are two fairly powerful witches so we thought we could handle it but today, someone tried successfully to break into our house and get past our wards.” He let out a deep breath, “You can only do that in large numbers of witches. We tried to hold it up just so we could see who was attacking us and it was a few members of the Boston coven, members that we have known in the past. Evelyn, one of the higher members and Carol, I think her name was? They were working with other witches to break down our wards. They were just getting through when your mom called you. Luckily you got us out before it was too late.”

Fear stroke a chord through Emma’s whole body. “But.” She started. “But what would they want from you? Would they have killed you?” 

Her dad shrugged. “I’m not sure. We don’t know their objective, but it was definitely hostile. I’m not sure why but I do know that we’ll need to be careful – maybe set up more advanced wards and be with each other more often.” 

Emma gulped. “Do you think there’s some way of always being protected? Because I can’t imagine that there is.” 

“The best defense is a good offense.” Sarah suggested. “If you know who tried to attack you, why not bring it to a regional council head?” 

Her dad shook his hand. “I haven’t been to the council in years. Why would they know who I was, let alone believe my claims?” 

“Don’t we have to try?” Emma desperately suggested. Her whole body felt as though she was on fire. She still couldn’t believe someone tried to attack her family. It was inconceivable. They had to pay. 

Emma’s mom reached forward and grasped her hand. She looked down at her mom’s hands. It had been some time since they had been so close, and it was only then that she realized just how much older her mom and dad were getting. Her mom’s hands were covered in wrinkles. Emma had never really noticed how much older they were getting; how vulnerable they would be from attack. As she looked at her mom, her mom squeezed her hand gently, shooting her with a comforting look. 

“We’ll be okay, Emma.” She soothed. “We are stronger than we appear. We will stay here to recover for a few hours and then we’ll head up to Vermont.” 

She again felt that crippling doubt. “But how will you be safe?” She insisted, clutching her mom’s hand tightly. “How will I know?” 

Her dad was the one who answered this time. “You’ll have to trust us, Emma.” He was staring at her with a mixture of love and support in his eyes that she could barely remember ever having seen before. “We are strong. Yes, this happened but now we will be more aware of it in the future and will be able to take the necessary steps.” 

Emma took a deep breath. “Okay.” She said. “Okay” She repeated. “It’s going to be okay.” In a coordinated move, her parents both leaned forward to give her a hug. She let out a little sob, which turned into many more tears. It had never occurred to her how much she did love her parents, despite everything. They were her rock to the world in a way that she didn’t understand until this point. “I love you guys so much.” She whispered. The admission caused her mom’s hands to tighten and her dad to squeeze just that bit tighter. 

As they released each other from the hug, she was also surprised that all three of them had tears on their cheeks. She leaned back into Sarah’s embrace. “I’ll get us all something to snack on the old-fashioned way.” She added unnecessarily. 

A few hours later, her parents bade her a fond farewell, accepting her wish that they would remain safe on their journey without too much trouble. The house seemed empty without them and that niggling fear continued to bug Emma. She didn’t want to tell Sarah her plan, worried that she would say it was immoral. She remembered all too well Caitlyn Ramirez telling her that Sarah was her guide in these matters but for once, she wanted to do something assertive, something that would mean the covens wouldn’t bother them anymore. 

“Are you okay?” The person in her thoughts approached her from behind. “You seem on edge.” 

Emma nodded grimly. “I’m just coming to terms with the fact that someone tried to attack my family, you included. Of course, you didn’t have it as bad as them but Sarah, someone tried to mug you. What if it happens when I’m not on the phone with you?” 

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Sarah laughed. “That’s the only way you’d know.” 

Emma was quiet for a moment. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t feel better if you weren’t here more often.” She admitted quietly, brushing a piece of her hair off to the side, staring at Sarah uncertainly. 

Sarah was also quiet. “Em, I would love to move in with you, but not like this. Moving in should be an exciting thing that we both want to do because it’s the next stage in our relationship, not because we’re frightened about other witches. That’s not what I want.” 

Emma’s eyes teared up. She knew that Sarah was right, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it right now to herself. “I know.” She nodded. “You’re right.” She said out loud but ignoring that statement to herself. “But stay for dinner?” 

Sarah shot her a warm smile. “Always.” They took each other’s hands and walked back in the house. When, a few hours later, Sarah kissed her and left her front porch, Emma was alone at last. She let out a breath she had been holding and finally let all of her anger out, screaming into a pillow as loudly as she could. How dare they? How dare they think they had the right to attack her family? Who did these witches think they were? 

Before she could let her anger get out of hand, she finally was able to enact her plan. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and wished that magic would have judgement on Evelyn and Carol, that they would pay for their actions, that something horrible would happen to them. As she opened her eyes, she didn’t feel too good. Even though it was just a wish, it felt like she was suddenly dirty inside, that she had crossed some kind of boundary she didn’t think she would cross. 

Shivering, she went upstairs to take a shower. But even that didn’t fix it. Emma just felt like there was layer of dirt on her skin that she somehow could not get off. She scrubbed and scrubbed but nothing changed. Feeling worried that she had done something awful, she called Jingles. The two of them sat in bed and stared at one another.

“Did I do something wrong, Jingles? In wishing harm upon them?” She asked

Jingles just meowed and stared at her. She dropped her head behind her legs and pressed her palms up to her eyes, the pressure lessening slightly in her head. She heard a purr as Jingles rubbed up next to her. Emma let out a sigh, she couldn’t be that bad if her cat still loved her, right?


	31. Chapter 31

The next morning, Emma woke up still feeling uncomfortable. Her muscles felt as though she had been running for miles the day before and her eyes were still heavy with sleep, as though she had gotten no sleep the night before. It was like she was stretched out past her boundaries, past what she considered normal. But she tried to ignore it. Maybe I’m sick, she wondered to herself. Maybe yesterday was just too much physically and mentally. Even though she knew it was the rationalization talking, she chose to ignore what she had done yesterday. 

The walk down to breakfast felt more like a trudge, the house seeming suddenly many more juts and angles than it ever did before. Jingles stayed with her, curling around her legs lovingly, even as she gulped, and her hands slightly shook. As she entered the kitchen, the realization of yesterday hit her. She had wished for something horrible to happen to Evelyn and Carol. While she hadn’t specified what she wanted to happen, Emma knew deep down that she wanted them to be hurt. She had wanted something horrible to happen. This was the kind of thing, she thought to herself, that Sarah and Emma were supposed to stop happening by working together. But instead, she had waited until Sarah had left because she knew the moral quandary that the situation would have put her in. But it was my family, she thought fiercely. I had to protect them. This was my choice. 

Again, she found herself staring at the floor, caught between horror at herself and uncontrollable anger. The tiles of her kitchen had never looked so dirty, so horrid. In fact, her whole house had never seemed so distant. It was like a stranger had been living here, as though this was not her house. The mugs looked foreign and a rising panic in her chest made her breath catch in her throat. Was this what a panic attack looked like? She had never experienced one before. Had she gone too far yesterday? Again, that panic threatened to overwhelm here. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back, resting her hands on the counter. No. This would not be what happened to her. She would not let it.

Another deep breath. Exhale. She opened her eyes, reminding herself with a pinch that this was reality. This was something she would have to deal with. But right now, a small voice said in her head, you can take a few moments to regroup before facing the disappointed voices and looks of Sarah and her parents. Without really thinking, she threw her hair up in a ponytail, tossed on warm clothes and wandered outside. In her darkest moments, Emma had always found that walking cured ninety percent of whatever was ailing her. Maybe that could be the case this time as well. She took a deep breath as she stepped outside. Still cold. Still Boston winter. And then she set off.

The streets of Boston in the morning were often crowded with people but somehow today it seemed like they weren’t nearly as crowded as she remembered. The people she did see were engrossed in their phones, their books and anything but the world in front of them. But before she could judge them, Emma wryly reminded herself that this was the way of the world. This was how she often interacted with the world as well. Lost in her own electronic world rather than look at how wonderful and amazing the actual world was. 

As she passed a café on her right-hand side, she could hear the news in the background. The reporter commented in that direct Bostonian way about how climate change was really not global warming after all. She internally snorted. It was all she could do to not wish that he would change his mind. And that moment of rethought, she continued on. There was no space to think about those other kinds of horrors that were going on in the world. What could she do to help with climate change apart from recycle? Chasing that dark and useless thought from her mind, she continued on the street. Without realizing it, she made it to Boston University’s territory. The nostalgia caused her to lightly smile as she wandered around the campus. It was full of students, all rushing to class or wandering around drunk after a night out. 

Her favorite parts of university had never been the main areas though, and she hung a tight left towards Coolidge Corner. The walk there from Commonwealth Avenue was covered in trees and residential houses. The late winter still meant that the trees were empty, their branches standing alone in the wind. As she walked down the road, she couldn’t help remembering all of the winters and summers she had walked here alone or with friends down to see a movie or wander around her favorite bookstore. It gave her a warm feeling deep in her chest. Familiarity always bred comfort, she thought to herself. At least she reached the side of Coolidge Corner. 

It was her favorite part of the city, a little outpost where you could find a bookstore, a Trader Joes and local movie theatre. There wasn’t anything special about it that she could pinpoint but it comforted her with an uncanny regularity. The little clock tower reminded her of evenings spent at Panera Bread and the clock she would look to when determining whether she could make it to the library for one last night study session before it closed. As she sat down at a bench and looked around, she could feel the anxiety continue to build in her chest. It was obvious that she needed to talk to someone, obvious she needed to deal with this somehow. But just for another moment, she wanted to enjoy this peace.

Taking a few deep breathes, she took to the streets again, poking her head into shops and eventually into her bookstore. She let an unconscious sigh of relief leave her mouth as she entered the store. There was nothing like her favorite bookstore, the little notes from store clerks reminding customers of which books were their favorite, the haphazard selection of books in a place that felt comfortable and all-together her own. As she wandered the shelves, she found she could more easily distract herself from her current dilemma when she read the blurbs of books and chatted easily with the bookstore staff. 

But she knew it wasn’t to last. Her phone vibrated for the first time that day and after ignoring it for another five minutes, Emma eventually let out a sigh and looked at it. A message from Sarah asking if she was home. Gulping, wondering if she could really be done with this moment of clarity, she decided to answer. She waved goodbye to the staff members and stepped outside. 

She dialed Sarah’s number, waiting patiently before her girlfriend picked up. “Hey” She said immediately as the phone connected.

“Good morning babe.” Sarah seemed perplexed. “I can’t put my finger on it, but something was telling me to call you this morning. I was too busy earlier so this was the quickest I could get to you. Is everything okay? My senses are telling me no.” 

“Um.” Emma hesitated. She didn’t want Sarah to think she was someone bad. “I’m… I think, I’m fine.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Em” Sarah sighed, and Emma could almost feel her girlfriend wanting to say something. “I just want to make sure everything is okay. Things were hard yesterday and I want to be there for you.” 

“I know.” Emma’s voice caught in her throat. “Just” She cleared her throat. “Just give me a few days. I think I need to figure this out.”

“We can figure this out together.” Sarah reminded her gently. “But I will respect your boundaries. But let’s try to see each other before this week ends.”

Emma nodded before she remembered that nods couldn’t be translated through the phone. “Yes.” She responded honestly. “I would like that. I just need today and maybe tomorrow to sort through it all.” 

“Okay” Sarah sounded unhappy. “Be safe.” 

Emma hung up the phone and collapsed on the bench, wanting to cry. What was she doing? She did want Sarah’s support and help but something told her that she needed to do this alone. Do what alone, that troublesome inner voice mocked her, what is there to do? You’ve already done it. 

She decided to figure this out as she figured out all other problems: at the library. Taking the T, she wandered down to the Boston Public Library and made her way to the prosaic library first. This wasn’t really a witch problem. This was a psychological problem. On her way there, she ran into Harry. He looked surprised to see her, his glasses askew on his face.

“Emma!” He cried out, engulfing her in a hug. “How are you?” 

She smiled weakly, “I’m okay.” He took one look at her before leaning back and placing his hands on her shoulders and guiding her to a chair.

“You most certainly are not okay.” He said quietly. “Something has happened. What are you doing here?” 

“I.” She wanted to hesitate. She wanted to say that it was nothing, but she couldn’t do it. Without warning, she broke down in tears and began to cry. And as she finally did cry, about her parents and Sarah being attacked, about casting that spell on Carol and Evelyn, she began to feel a bit lighter. She hadn’t realized how holding everything in was causing her whole body to feel cramped, as though it couldn’t hold in that much emotion, that much pain and anger and sorrow without making some major internal renovations. 

So, she told him everything. She told him about the lore, the visit to Boulder, the talks with her parents, the confrontations with Evelyn and Carol and how they had attacked her parents and most likely Sarah as well. When she almost hesitated telling about the spell, she gritted her teeth and powered through. It didn’t matter if he knows, she told herself, I have to tell someone. I have to get this off of my chest. 

As she finished – her throat raw from talking and crying – she looked at him. “You must think I’m a monster.” She said bitterly. “I know I feel like one.” 

Harry shook his head once and grasped her hands tightly. “No, Emma.” He looked remarkably calm for someone who had heard such a crazy story. “No, I don’t think you’re a monster. You’re just a woman, a witch, looking out for her family. What is there wrong with that?” 

“But I wished harm upon them, Harry.” Emma cried out in shame. “I wanted them to hurt, to feel pain for what they did to my family.” 

Harry cocked his head to the left. “And what is so inhuman, so monstrous about that?” 

“I just… I shouldn’t have.” Emma continued doggedly. “I’m supposed to be this powerful witch that brings peace and here I am trying to injure other witches. How does that work? Shouldn’t I be held to a higher standard?” 

“No.” Harry soothed, “I think what makes someone powerful is when they acknowledge their faults. Powerful leaders aren’t powerful if they hold themselves up to be more powerful, stronger than everyone else. That wouldn’t make them strong, that would make them weak. The fact that you’re feeling this means that you are being modest, that you aren’t letting that power get to your head.”

“But shouldn’t I have to deal with this somehow? Shouldn’t there be consequences?” She pressed. 

“If you want there to be.” Harry shrugged. “Family is, in my opinion, one of the most important things that we have. They are our tribe. They are there with us from the beginning to the end. If someone tries to threaten that, you don’t think that they deserve what they get? I think what you are upset about.” He cast a knowing look in her direction. “Is that you’ve never used your magic to hurt someone else before, so instead of it just being a magical thing that you’re happy to have and it only creates beautiful things, it’s now something in-between good and bad.” 

“I mean.” Emma almost smiled. “Of course, I know that magic isn’t just good, marshmallows and butterflies. As a hard-core fantasy reader, I know that for sure. “

Harry smiled. “Yes, but it is one thing to know it from books and another thing entirely to experience it.”

Emma shrugged uncomfortably. “Maybe.” 

“Come on.” Harry gestured towards his office. “Let me take you somewhere more private and I’ll call someone for you”

Emma allowed herself to be dragged along to Harry’s office. As they entered, she couldn’t help but look around. He shot her a grin and plopped her down in a separate chair. “Let me get you a cup of tea.” He said gently, “And you can snoop in the meantime.” Before she had a chance to protest, he winked and stepped out of the room. She could hear the water heater warming in the second room so she did decide she would take the time to look around. 

Harry’s office was the dream of every librarian. There were books stacked high to the ceiling, little sticky notes poking out of different sections. The stacks seemed to be categorized per genre, but she couldn’t be sure. Then her eyes roved to the desk. He had a computer, a neat set of pens in a home crafted mug and pictures strewn up of his family. She couldn’t help but smile as she saw him smiling with a younger girl. It must be his younger sister. They were both laughing in the photo and she could almost feel the love from it emanating outwards. She leaned back in the chair, noticing that he had a skylight that showed the beautiful Boston sky and just enough space to think. 

Just then, Harry wandered back in with a steaming mug of tea. “I called Sarah. And” He held up his hand. “Before you protest. Trust me on this. You need to talk to someone about this. We can talk about it until she gets here but I think you want to talk with her, you’re just… well you’re just something.”

“I’m ashamed.” She said it quietly. “I don’t want her to think of me any differently than she did before.”

To her surprise, Harry let out a laugh. “Think differently of you? Are you blind, deaf and dumb? She loves you, Emma. And you love her. There is nothing you can do that will make her not love you.”

Emma blushed. “But I…” 

“No buts” Harry held up his hand again, but it was covering his smile. “Trust me on this. I am very good at reading people. You just need to be open and honest with her.” 

She took a deep breath. “I think I can do that.” 

“Good.” He pointed at her tea. “Drink that. She’ll be here shortly. She happened to be in the area. Witch senses and all.”

“I feel like a child who got sent to the principal’s office.” Emma pouted, hastily drinking her tea under his gaze. But as she heard the knock on the door and Sarah’s comforting voice asking if they were both alright, she felt her whole body relax. It really would be okay.


	32. Chapter 32

Emma turned to the face the door and as she saw Sarah enter it, a million worries and concerns about everything that had been happening the last two days went to the wayside. She stood up and was immediately wrapped in a tight hug. Sarah’s arms around her. Sarah’s face against her. Her voice whispering how worried she was about her. 

“I’ll give you two my office.” Harry quietly closed the door, leaving them both alone. 

In the silence, Emma wasn’t sure what to say. She was still so ashamed of what she did and when she felt like this normally, she had a bad habit of isolating herself from everyone else around her. But there was no isolating herself this time.

“Sarah, I’m sorry.” She decided to start with an apology. “I never meant to kick you out or push you away, I just… well I’m struggling. I did something that I’m really embarrassed. Well, I’m not. Well.” She laughed self-consciously. “I’m struggling to know how to feel.” She looked at Sarah for help beseechingly, who looked like she calmly surveying her to make sure all of her necessary bits were there. 

“Emma Hornberger.” She started, looking like she would begin a well-deserved rant, but then burst into giggles. “Sorry.” She took a moment to get herself under control again. “This isn’t really a laughing moment, but I just felt like I was going to start harassing you like a mother would do. But babe,” She threaded her fingers into Emma’s. “You don’t have to apologize for needing time to figure things out. Of course, I was worried about you and I wanted to be there for you. But we all handle these kinds of moments and hardships differently. Who am I to say that you need me there with you 100% of the time? That would be ridiculous.” She tucked an errant piece of hair behind Emma’s ear. “Was I worried and wish you had at least told me where you’d be?” She continued in a conversational voice. “Obviously.”

“Compromise that next time I need some alone time, I’ll let you know where I am?” Emma offered up, wanting to lean into that comfort.

Sarah smiled. “Absolutely. Now, tell me about what you’re embarrassed about because I really can’t think of anything you’ve done that would merit these feelings.” 

“Um.” Emma looked down at her shoes. “I’m just… I’m worried you won’t look at me the same way after I tell you. I’m scared.” She admitted. “That I ruined this one really good thing that’s happened to me.”

Sarah hit her on the head twice. “That’s ridiculous.” Her expression softened. “Remember when I told you about the love potion with Mark?”

Emma nodded.

“Remember how I was ashamed, but I still told you and you didn’t leave me?” 

Emma nodded again.

Sarah sighed. “You should know I love you just as much, if not more, than I did then. I wish that you could believe that you are as deserving of that unconditional support as I was back then. You do believe that, don’t you?” 

Emma smiled. “When you put it like that, I guess I don’t really have any excuses, do I?” 

“No.” Sarah stroked her arm gently. “But you don’t have to tell me right now if you don’t want to.” 

“No.” She struggled to remain brave. If she stopped feeling brave for just one moment, she wouldn’t have the courage to do what she wanted to do. “I… well, Sarah, after the whole thing with Evelyn and Carol and you and my parents, I was just so angry. And I knew I could do something. I knew I had the power to make them hurt if I wanted. And I did.” She admitted miserably, “I wished that they would hurt. I wished that something bad would happen to them in recompense to what happened to us.”

Sarah let out a low breath in understanding. “Ah.” She said, “That makes a lot of sense.” 

“Makes a lot of sense?” Emma asked, “What do you mean?”

She blushed. “I’ve been trying to figure out what it could be that you were so ashamed of, what could my perfect girlfriend have done to make her so willing to retreat into a little corner, but it’s obvious to me now. Magic has always been good for you, right?” 

Emma colored. “That’s what Harry said too, that this was the first time I’ve ever had to use magic in a way that wasn’t entirely good or beautiful. But it doesn’t explain how dirty I feel inside.”

“Look.” Sarah took her hands gently. “In my opinion, and take that for what it is, there aren’t any purely good or evil things in the world. There aren’t purely good and evil people and magic itself is not purely good or evil. It’s about how you use it. Most people don’t have the luxury of practicing magic whenever they want. Usually it takes time to perform a ritual or cast a spell, so witches, well, we usually have some time to think over what has happened. With you, Em, you don’t. You can act on instinct, which I think is both a very good and very dangerous thing. I’ve been surprised, honestly, that this hasn’t happened before. I mean, the amount of times you could have done so earlier, and you didn’t? That, I think shows what a good person you are.”

Emma furrowed her brow. “So, you’re saying that it happens?”

Sarah sighed. “No. I’m saying that everyone practices good and bad magic. This isn’t Harry Potter. There isn’t a distinction between dark and light magic. This isn’t like any fantasy book you’ve ever read. We’re real. We deal with real things. And for us, magic is just about intent. Are there people who use it badly and to hurt others? Of course. Are there good witches like Caitlyn who try and do their best?” She paused. “Of course, there are. It comes to a head at some point or another where you accidently use it badly. Normally this kind of stuff happens when you’re a teenager and when your hormones are out of control and you make spontaneous decisions. You didn’t have that, babe. And well, I think in all of the cases that could have happened when you used magic in this way, it’s completely understandable.” 

“But would you have stopped me?” Emma pressed. “Would you have told me to not hurt them? Because I’m still struggling between being ashamed and angry.” 

Sarah paused. “I’m not sure.” She said slowly. “I was also angry. I was furious. But your parents aren’t my family, so I don’t know to what extent I was feeling the kind of cold fury you were at the time. And I would have been hard-pressed to tell you not to do something like that.” She took a deep breath. “But is this why you were so upset?” She took Emma’s hands. “That you felt like you sent me away so you could do something you didn’t think I would approve of.”

Emma turned away, but before she could do so, Sarah hugged her. “Don’t ever send me away.” She whispered. “Even if you’re doing something that you think is ill-advised. I’d rather be there, Em. I’d rather be by your side so that you don’t have to make these kinds of decisions by yourself.”

“But I was so upset.” Emma cried, her eyes beginning to brim with tears, “I’m still so angry. I didn’t know what to do. How am I supposed to make good decisions without getting control of my emotions?” 

“Okay.” Sarah paused again but then laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, this really isn’t the right time for humor, but I can’t help myself.” She gathered herself visibly. “But think about your books,” She urged. “Think about Harry.” 

“Harry Bernard?” Emma questioned; her voice half broken from emotion and her eyes red-rimmed.

“No.” Sarah reached for a tissue to hand to her. “Harry Potter.”

“Harry Potter?” Emma asked again. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh, come on, Potterhead.” She smiled at her. “How does it go when Harry has to control his emotions?” 

“You mean with Occlumency?” Emma asked and pulled herself together, her hands still shaking a bit. “Well,” And her voice took on that lecture-like quality. “It doesn’t go well at all.” She laughed herself, “Snape tries to tell Harry how to practice Occlumency, but it doesn’t work because he doesn’t tell him how to do it. And it ends up being useless because Voldemort is inside of his head already.” 

“Exactly.” Sarah cried out. “It doesn’t work because no one can or should tell you to control your emotions.”

“I mean.” Emma started to say. “That’s not really how Harry Potter works – “ 

Sarah silenced her with a look. “This isn’t about Harry Potter; this is about us. This is about accepting that we are humans with emotions. You can’t take the emotions out of a human without making it a machine. It’s completely natural and normal to feel this way. And if a few bad mistakes come out of these times when you’re feeling turbulent and angry – that’s okay. That’s perfectly normal.”

Emma sighed. “But shouldn’t I be held to a higher standard?”

“Because of the lore?” Sarah snorted. “Yeah right. Do you have any idea how drunk and crazy witches have been in the past? How many mistakes have they made? In fact, how do we know that the witches who wrote the lore weren’t drunk and making mistakes?” 

Emma eyed her warily. “You don’t think?”

“No, I don’t.” Sarah relented. “But I do think that they wouldn’t you to think that you have to obey some strict standards of rules that the Hero in a story has to follow. Hell, that’s not real life, Emma. That’s not how the world works. You need to trust that things will be okay, that things will work out and it’s okay if we take a few detours along the way.”

Emma took a deep breath. ‘That’s… that’s true. I suppose I could just think about college or any time things have gone pear-shaped in the past. Things have always turned out okay. I’ve still always ended up here.” 

Sarah smiled, again sweeping her up in those one-of-a-kind hugs. “I knew you’d get there eventually.” 

They remained close for another moment before Sarah pulled away. “Okay, so are you feeling a bit better now?”

Emma nodded. “I’m still kind of worried and angry about what happened but I feel more like myself.” 

“That’s good.” Sarah smiled. “Because now we can think about how to respond and how to do so in a good way.”

“Respond?” Emma asked.

“Yes. You’ve wished this harm upon Evelyn and Carol. I say we let that run its course. There’s no reason to interfere with that spell.” Sarah looked pleased. “After all, it’s done. But there are other ways we can also respond.”

“Like reporting it to the council?” Emma asked again, “But I thought we decided that was useless.”

“We did” Sarah shrugged. “But there’s something to be said for bureaucracy and don’t think that I wasn’t here just to see you.” She winked. “I was here to look up some things in the library about reporting violations and how useful they are.”

“And?” Emma leaned forward in anticipation. 

“And I talked to Theresa. She also agreed it might not do much but it’s better to lodge a complaint now and then if and when we end up responding more aggressively later, we already have that down in the books.”

Emma nodded slowly. “That makes a lot of sense. How do we lodge this complaint then?” 

“To the library!” Sarah jumped up, pointing her finger at the sky. “That is to say – the magical one.”

For the first time all day, Emma started to feel more like herself. She took Sarah’s hand and they walked towards the children’s book section so they could enter the magical library. As she sat in that chair and immediately was transported to that she could see those beautiful shelves and stained-glass work on the ceiling, that nasty lump in her gut finally vanished. It was going to be okay. She and Sarah were going to figure this out together. A few seconds later, Sarah arrived in the library, taking Emma’s hand and they walked together to a library lectern in the corner. 

Theresa appeared. She was holding a few sheets of paper and was looking at the two of them as though checking they were in one piece. “Good.” She murmured to herself. “Blessed Be.” She chimed to Sarah and Emma. “I’m so glad to hear that you are both okay. I still can’t believe the audacity of those two witches and I’m more than happy to help you make a claim.”

“Is it like filing an insurance claim?” Emma asked quietly

“Precisely so.” Theresa smiled at her gently. “It’s easy. All I need is some identifying information and then your account.” 

Emma took the paper and began to write. Five or ten minutes later, she looked up and passed the finalized document over to Theresa. The librarian looked over it for a few minutes before smiling. 

“That should do it.” She sealed it with some kind of blue stamp and sent it off to who knows where. “You’re done.”

“That was it?” Emma asked in a dead-pan expression. 

“See.” Sarah bumped her shoulder. “I told you, easy. Now we’ve covered our bases.” 

Emma let out another sigh of relief. “I think I’d like to go home.” 

Sarah took Emma home via her car. It was a nice gesture, because walking down the streets and worrying was the last thing she wanted to do. Though really, that little voice in her head said, are you sure you just don’t want to be alone? She chose to ignore that and merely enjoyed the time she spent with Sarah in the car. As they arrived at her home, Sarah turned to give her a hug. Emma gulped.

“Do you… do you mind staying a bit longer?” she whispered, almost ashamed of how much she needed someone to stay with her.

Sarah rewarded that vulnerability with a warm smile. “No, Em. Of course, I don’t.” 

The two of them plodded into her apartment. Emma hadn’t been back since this morning and she cringed at how messy it looked. She had been very out of sorts this morning and hadn’t bothered to do much of anything. But now was the perfect time, she thought determinedly to herself, to remind herself how magic can be good and bad. She closed her eyes and wished for everything to be tidy. As she opened them, she felt another smile cross her face. 

Magic was amazing. She sat down on the couch with Sarah, marveling at how with just a wish, her whole world could be changed. How her girlfriend didn’t hate her for having emotions. How she was lucky enough to have a family who was safe, a home that was safe and now someone with her who wanted her to be happy and loved. Magic might have its good and bad sides, but as far as she was concerned, if it could bring her this kind of happiness and fulfillment, then the bad parts were more than worth it.


	33. Chapter 33

Over the next few weeks, Emma was surprised to notice that life seemed to be developing a rhythm. She would wake up, go about her normal prosaic work and life, meet up with Sarah or Harry or both for dinner and then spend her evenings practicing magic. Some evenings she would leave feeling as though her whole body was thrumming with energy. It was cliché, but she couldn’t help marveling at how magical her life really was. 

“Really, Em?” Sarah had parroted back at her, “Magical? That’s the best you could come up with?” 

Emma had just shrugged, even as she felt volts of electricity coursing through her body. “I can’t describe it any other way.” She insisted. “It feels like magic. You know when you think you’re living your life to its full potential and then suddenly you break through a plateau and you realize that you were missing 80 percent of what could have been? That’s where I’m at right now.” 

They continued working. Studying. Emma had always been a voracious reader but now she dove to a new level, finding more complex theories to test, always with Sarah by her side. It was lucky that they two of them worked so well together and knew each other beforehand. It made the practice not practice, but a special time that they could spend together. On occasion, Harry would join and surprise them with his own special breed of magic. More than once, he admitted that it was a novelty to him that people were actually interested in his magic.

“I don’t understand.” Emma had started confused. “Your magic is so beautiful, Harry, how could anyone not be interested.”

He shrugged and itched his head, obviously uncomfortable. “You don’t get it Emma. The magical world is practical. They want kinds of magic that they can use in war, and if your magic is more… well, I’ll say it, aesthetically pleasing, then they don’t see a use for it.” 

Sarah nodded. “It’s true, Emma.” She grasped her girlfriend’s hand. “Witches tend to prefer magic that they consider useful and if they don’t see it as immediately reaping benefits, they ignore it.”

“But all magic is beautiful.” Emma burst out, “All magic is special. Or at least.” Her voice trailed off. “It should be. I hate that both of you were raised in these almost war-like households. That isn’t how it should be.” 

“There’s a big difference between what is and what should be.” Sarah remarked. “There always is with witchcraft.”

Emma leaned back in her chair, discontented. She wished there was something she could do about it. “And is our role.” She started. “Is our role going to help with that?” 

Sarah looked unsure. “I don’t know.” She admitted. “Maybe or maybe not. I think our role is about peace, right? So, maybe in a weird convoluted way it is?”

“I think though” Harry interrupted “You put too much stock in lore. It doesn’t mean much unless you give it power. So, Emma, if you want to put your efforts towards making everyone see magic is special, then you can do that.” He raised his hands. “Like with all things, it’s about what you focus on. It’s about what you choose to do with your time.” 

Emma nodded, albeit a bit more cheerful than before. “I just want us to all be able to live together and to be able to see that all magic has its merits. But maybe I’m asking a bit too much.” 

These kinds of conversations became commonplace between the three as spring finally arrived and Boston began to grow warm in the evenings. The sun came up earlier and Emma was reminded of how much she preferred winter. Brownstones in Boston were not made to handle hot temperatures and while it wasn’t fully summer yet, she could just feel the warmth enough for it to be uncomfortable. But she would do anything, think about anything, apart from wondering about the well-being of Carol and Evelyn. She hadn’t attempted to find out and she wasn’t sure if her spells had a scent to them. 

Sarah had promised she would keep an ear out and let her know if anything was up, but Emma had her doubts. She knew that Sarah had her best interests at heart but she somehow suspected that Sarah might think it prudent to not let her know. But as the days stretched into weeks, Emma’s high blood pressure began to drop. Her moments of anxiety began to happen with less frequency and with every deep breath and hug, things were getting back to normal.

But what was normal for a pack of three witches trying to change the world? Emma found herself asking that same question every day. Was it going about their normal lives and adding in magic in the evenings? Was it adopting a few magical traditions in her life like saging her home every so often or was it melding the prosaic and magical elements in her life together like an elegant dance? She hoped that she was doing it right. She had spoken to her mom about it from time to time and her mom always had the same answer.

“There is no right way to be a witch, Emma. There is no right way to be a woman or be human. You simply do what you believe to be right. That is enough.” 

“But surely.” Emma had pressed. “There must be a way to balance everything.” 

Her mom laughed. “You always wanted there to be, when you were younger.” She reminisced. “You wanted there to be a pattern and a right way of doing things but there isn’t Emma. There’s just surviving, you figure out what works for you and then you do it. It’s as simple as that.” 

Emma laughed out of frustration. “That’s not simple at all.”

“Is life meant to be?” 

Emma found herself back where she always was. Unsure. It reminded her of the final days of college and the first day of unemployment before she had found her first job. She remembered not knowing what to do. Wanting to find a job, missing school. Feeling the keen knowledge that there was no playbook, no perfect way of doing things. She had felt lost then, just as she did now. She had wandered around the streets, thinking that surely there were people who had figured it out. Those people who knew that they wanted to be doctors and lawyers since they were little children. She had never been like that. No. She had lusted after a million different careers. When she was five, she wanted to be a firefighter. But when she was eight, she had decided that she had to be a vet. Two years later, she had wanted to be a professional musician with the National Orchestra. These things had never been static. Even being a UI designer was not something she had necessarily wanted to do for a long time. She had merely known that she had developed those skills in college, and they were marketable. 

In that way, she mused, she was lucky. She had the luxury of thinking about what she wanted to do. Not all people did. What was normal varied for different people. It was always a bit of a surprise when she could manage it. And she had managed normalcy for a few years. While they were lovely, thinking back, Emma could only wonder if that wasn’t also a phase, wasn’t also just one moment along her journey to get her where she was: here.

After settling back into a routine, she decided that Sarah and herself should meet with the hunter again. If they were going to “achieve peace,” then they needed to meet more than once. In war zones, peace agreements weren’t built in a day. They took months, years of effort before they actually took root in people’s collective psyche’s and even then – they didn’t often hold. So, she decided to call Holly. 

She picked up on the third ring. “Hey Holly, it’s Emma.” 

“Emma.” Holly’s voice sounded decidedly cool. “How nice to finally hear from you.”

“I’m sorry it’s taken me a bit longer than expected to get back to you.” Emma apologized profusely. “Things got… well, things got out of hand. My parents and Sarah were attacked.”

“By witch hunters?” Holly’s voice lost some of its coolness and sounded shocked. “That can’t be. I mean… it could be, but that’s… that’s not what we want.” 

“No.” Emma said after a beat. “No, but luckily it wasn’t by hunters. It was by the Boston coven.” 

Again, another pause. “The coven?” Holly asked delicately. “The one you can supposedly take along with you in our push to peace?”

Emma cringed. “Well, yes. I’m still trying to figure out why.” That was an outright lie, but as she said it, she realized she should be at least attempting to determine why. “But… that’s not important right now. It just, it took me out of my life for a bit. I was so worried about them, so worried that everything was ruined. So, I am really sorry for it being so long. It’s not that we didn’t want to meet.”

“Did you hurt them?” Holly asked, her voice sounding a bit vicious, “I hope so. Hurting someone’s family is an unforgivable crime.”

Emma was taken aback. She hadn’t expected Holly to react in this way. Sure, she expected the anger, but she hadn’t expected her to be on her side so quickly. “I… well I did attack back but I’m not sure if it was successful.” 

“Well, if you need anyone else to take a bite out of them, just say the word.”

“That’s very kind of you.” She thanked Holly hesitantly. 

“Hunters.” Holly’s voice took on a lecture-like quality. “work in packs. We’re a bit like werewolves.” She continued wryly. “We protect our own and you aren’t a witch hunter, Emma Hornberger, but you are becoming part of my pack and I take care of my own.”

Emma didn’t know what to say. “Thank you.” She finally got out weakly. “That means a lot to me.” 

“So, you wanted to meet?” Holly continued cheerfully, as though her threat had never happened. 

“Yes!” Emma smiled. “We could all meet for a coffee. It’s almost summer so we don’t have to constantly hide inside from the cold. I could also bring along another witch, my friend Harry.” 

“And he isn’t part of this coven?” Holly asked warily.

“No.” Emma laughed. “He’s far from it. And he’s interested. A bit nervous, but still interested.” 

They set a meeting date for the six of them at one of Emma’s favorite places in town: Faneuil Hall. There were a million places to eat and so, she reasoned, there shouldn’t be any issues with people finding a place to eat. They met on a Saturday afternoon, when the weather was sunny and a bit windy. Boston wasn’t quite ready to give it all up to summer, Emma thought fondly. She never was. 

She stood at the corner of the street with Sarah in an arm trying to comfort a nervous Harry.

“What if they don’t like me and decide to kill me?” Harry fretted. “What about my family? Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Harry.” Emma said calmly. “You need to relax. They are just people like you and me. There is nothing wrong with them. Take a deep breath. Smile. Look normal.” 

Just as they had gotten him calm, Sarah spotted Holly in the crowd walking with Pete and Jasmine. She waved wildly and the three approached them. Emma could sense their fear, their uncertainty about not knowing who Harry was.

“This is our friend Harry,” She immediately moved to defuse any possible tension. “He’s a bit nervous.”

Pete broke the uncomfortable silence first. He stretched out his hand and curled his mouth up in a smile. “Hi Harry, Pete and this is my wife Jasmine, Emma said that you’re a librarian?”

Harry gulped, visibly nervous before he stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you Pete.” He said nervously. “Yes, I’m a librarian. I work at the Boston Public Library.”

Jasmine also reached her hand forward. “Nice to meet you too, Harry. I’m Jasmine. I’m a programmer.” 

Harry stammered out a “Nice to meet you.” And shook her hand as well. Now that the immediate concern was over, Harry let out a sigh of relief. 

“Sorry.” He admitted, “I’m a bit of a nervous Nelly normally so this is fraying my nerves a bit.” 

“The first time we met Sarah and Emma,” Jasmine admitted, “I was so nervous I had two whole croissants before the meeting and another sandwich after. I’m a nervous carb loader.”

Everyone shared a laugh, and Emma shared a wink with Holly. Things weren’t going as bad as they had anticipated. “Let’s get some food.” Emma suggested. “I’m sure you all have been here before, I thought it was best for the different tastes.” Everyone agreed and began to walk down the Hall. There were a million stalls – Italian, Mexican, Irish, British, German, South African, Asian – on and on they went. As you walked by a stall, the scent lured you in, almost intoxicating. It was almost impossible to decide what was actually calling your name. Harry opted for a meatball sub while Holly and Jasmine decided that they would try a Banh Mi, a Vietnamese sandwich. After much hemming and hawing, Pete ordered a pasty from a British stand while Emma and Sarah split a large plate of nachos. After they all got their food, they all congregated at one of the standing tables outside. 

As the sun beat down on their backs, Emma looked around and was delighted to see Harry in deep conversation with Holly while Pete spoke with Sarah and Jasmine. It was one of those special moments where felt as though she was actually doing some good in the world. She wasn’t worried, at least at this moment, about anything else. She had friends, and she could see how easy it was for them to actually interact. When she saw this, and she knew it was a very small subsection, it gave her hope.

If people as diverse as these five people could get along enough to have a meal together, it wasn’t as outlandish as she thought to get two communities with a history such as the hunters and witches in Boston to get along. In fact, it seemed more doable than she had ever considered before. As she took another nacho and shared a smile with Sarah, she decided now would be the time to say something. 

She cleared her throat. “Hey everyone. I just want to say, thank you for giving this a chance.” She looked around at all of them sincerely. “I know it isn’t easy and it certainly isn’t in any of our normal natures to trust one another but here we are, doing this. It takes a moment to reconnect to what we think of as our enemies, but I know we can do it. I mean, I’m watching it unfold in front of my eyes.”

Sarah took her hand again, “I fully agree.” She added. “I didn’t know most of you before a few weeks ago and now it feels like we could be friends.”

Pete and Jasmine smiled at one another. “We can’t say we know all of you too well yet, but I know,” Pete smiled at his wife. “We’re already better at seeing each other as people rather than as strangers.”

Holly nodded her assent and even Harry smiled tentatively. There, Emma thought fiercely, that was it. That showed more than anything that her plan, her – dare she say it – destiny, was possible.


	34. Chapter 34

Emma, Sarah and Harry returned back to her apartment after their meeting with the hunters with full and happy stomachs and some element of hope in their hearts. Perhaps the thing they were trying to achieve was possible after all. They formed a small circle in her apartment and sat in silence for a moment, trying to decide what the next step should be. 

Finally, Emma spoke. “I think that was pretty successful.” 

Sarah nodded in agreement. “It was. I think we’re all starting to see that we aren’t that different after all.”

Even Harry agreed. “They aren’t that different.” He offered up in a quiet voice. “It was definitely weird to interact with people who you’ve heard scary bedtime stories about for your whole childhood, but I feel like it would get easier and easier each time to see them.”

“Sort of like gradual onset therapy.” Sarah smiled in satisfaction. 

“Whatever that means.” Emma stuck her tongue out at Sarah. “You and your big words.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “But what’s the next step?” She pressed. “Sure, the three of us and the three of them now feel more comfortable with one another but making peace goes beyond just the six of us.”

“Technically.” Harry cut in. “Cultural diplomacy relies on those kinds of small numbers. Maybe a bit more than six.” He conceded. “But still, it’s been proven again and again that smaller numbers in interactions generally results in better results.” 

“Both of you are right.” Emma huffed. “Unfortunately. This is a good start, there’s no doubt about that and I’m happy we started with smaller numbers because it does give us a greater hope of success in the long run but we do have to eventually invite more people or somehow get more people involved.” 

Again, a moment of silence.

“You know what we need.” Harry looked uncomfortable. “And I know it isn’t what anyone wants to hear, but what we need is more witches. Potentially more coven witches.” 

Emma sighed. That was the absolute last thing she wanted to hear. She hadn’t wanted to interact with the coven at all since she had wished harm upon Evelyn and Carol. Sarah shot her a lot, understanding her immediate reluctance. 

“Is there no other way to communicate with regional witches?” Emma asked weakly. “Surely there is some forum online or another way that we could communicate and somehow bypass the coven.” 

Sarah shrugged, crossing her arms. “I’m not sure, Em” She admitted. “Maybe we could leave up posters in the library, but it wouldn’t have the same kind of effect that you want to achieve. We might get random people, but we wouldn’t get normal witches so to speak.”

Emma buried her face in her hands, letting out a deep breath. “Okay.” She said once. She said it again. “If.” And she stressed that word. “If we decide to go ahead and contact the coven, how would we do it? How would we make sure we are all safe? Because that, to me, is the most important part of all of this. If we can’t keep each other safe, then there’s no point in any of this.” 

Harry leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees. “We would start by contacting some people lower in the coven, so not the ones at the top. I have trouble imagining that they will be trust us at all. But maybe witches who are a part of the coven but don’t really subscribe to all of its beliefs might be our target audience.”

“Target audience?” A smile danced around Emma’s mouth. “You should more like a marketer than a librarian.”

“Goodness me.” He teased right back. “I must be losing my touch.”

They laughed for a moment, the worry and silence that was weaving around the room broken. Even though Emma still privately wondered at their success rate, she couldn’t deny that the idea of contacting lower witches, people who were members but not necessarily a part of the coven’s crazy beliefs would be a good strategy.”

“How would we get ahold of them?” She asked.

Harry smiled. “Well. You would have to work at a library and have access to a list of the coven members to start but I don’t know where you’d get that.”

Sarah winked. “You might also have to then find the perfect person or people and then accidentally run into them, develop a friendship, figure out ways of pushing them away from the coven and then bring them into our circle.”

Emma smiled. “Wouldn’t that be a bit like creating our own coven?” 

Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Is that something you want to do?” 

“No, no.” she raised her hands up in the universal sign for stop, “God no. I just was wondering if anything was similar that regard. I don’t know how covens were originally formed so I was just checking.” 

“Well.” Harry explained. “You aren’t completely wrong. Covens were formed in order for witches to remain safe by working together. All over the world, witches and people began to understand that by working together, you could have a greater sphere of protection. Witches are no different. Of course, there is safety in groups. So, in a way, forming an alliance is like forming a coven. In witch tradition, there are special ways of consecrating a coven that I don’t think you’d be particularly interested in, but.” And he shrugged. “The idea is essentially the same.” 

Emma shivered. “I don’t want to form another cult. But.” She looked somewhere in the distance. “But I do want to make sure you both and my family are safe. That’s true. The very first hybrid coven.” She joked. “Witches and hunters together protecting one another.” 

But as she said it aloud for the first time, she found that she wasn’t really joking as much as she meant to. The idea of forming some kind of collective wasn’t that bad. She didn’t want to specifically form a coven, because that wouldn’t be fair to any of the hunters they also adopted. But she also didn’t want to form a pack because who knew how the witches would handle that kind of slight. But mutual protection from both sides, she admitted privately to herself, it didn’t seem like such a crazy idea. 

“It would be crazy if it could be true.” 

But Sarah was staring at her. She knew her and her lost expressions. She understood that even though it might be crazy, Emma was still considering it. Weighing her options. What would be best? 

“But.” Emma cleared her throat. “That’s not important. Let’s start meeting witches” 

At first, their plans went exactly according to plan. Harry used his status as a librarian to access rolls which held the names of local witches. Privately, Emma lamented the horrific lack of security around these names, even though she was happy to also have access to them. Once they got the names of two witches, because two was more than enough to start, Sarah then played her part and did some research.

The two witches they were going to approach were named Rachel Morningstern and Laila Pascale. According to Sarah, Rachel worked at a local café – which made the approach easier than expected. 

“How will she know that we’re witches though?” Emma asked, “Do we just go up and order a spell or something ridiculous?” 

Sarah smacked her on the head lovingly. “No, silly. We’re going to go perform some magic. It’s going to be small but hopefully it will have the kind of impact I’m hoping for.”

“So, you want me to use magic in public just to get this girl’s attention? You’re sending me a lot of mixed signals concerning our relationship.” Emma waggled her eyebrows at her. 

Sarah had the good decency to blush. “No, not like that. Just wish for your coffee to be just the right temperature or something small. We can start going to this café for lunch and make it so that she sees us and hopefully she will say something.”

“That’s not much of a plan.” Emma raised her eyebrows again. “And if she says nothing?” 

Sarah shrugged. “What’s the worst-case scenario? That’s it.” 

Emma sighed. “I suppose.” 

So, they went to this café. It was one of those vegan hippy cafes that Emma secretly enjoyed. The cafes that offered up five different kinds of milk and a million different options for all of their customers who required different ingredients like bee pollen or something random such as that.” 

“Could I have the spirulina latte?” Emma blushed as she said it. She had never heard herself sound so extra.

“Sure.” The witch behind the counter chirped. This witch, Rachel, was young. Her hair was cropped in a short cut and she wore a number of pins on her shirt that all indicated that she was a huge geek to Emma. “Do you want oat milk with that, almond milk, hemp milk, and I have some other options if you already know?”

“Oat milk is fine.” Emma said hurriedly.

“And add-ons?” Rachel asked patiently. “If you take a look at our list on the chalkboard, you’ll see we have over 20 add-ons that can boost your antioxidant intake or any other options that you might be interested in.”

“It’s fine as is.” Emma insisted, giving her a smile. “I’m simple.”

“But are you sure?” Rachel pressed, looking curious. “It’s included in the price.” She added. “And the bee pollen is really good.” She murmured under her breath.

To her surprise, Emma felt the inner workings on a spell. She widened her eyes at Rachel, who immediately looked chagrined. 

“Sorry!” She cringed. “It’s a bad habit. I just really like bee pollen and sometimes my love for it leaks out.” 

Emma could feel a broad smile spreading across her face. “It’s no problem.” She assured the mortified Rachel, “I totally understand where you’re coming from. It happens to be all the time. When you’re done with your shift, do you want to come sit with my girlfriend and I.” She pointed out Sarah waving from the corner. “We have some… magical things to discuss.” 

Rachel looked a bit nervous. “Is this coven business?” She asked. “Because I swear, I didn’t mean to break that vase, but I also don’t have the means to pay for it. I’m just clumsy.” 

Emma laughed, “This is most definitely not coven business. I think we’re going to get along just fine.” 

As she walked back over to her table, she felt cheered immensely. Meeting each of these women was sort of like walking into a job interview without being able to prepare for the kind of job or what kind of interview you were going to have. It was a hearty mixture of fear and nerves. But she just had to keep telling herself that witches were just people too. They were the same kind of strange people she would run into at university, at work and wherever she went.

It wasn’t really about persuading them. No. It was about having a conversation with them and seeing that just like the hunters, they were just people too. 

After her shift ended, Rachel came to sit and talk with them. She was young, fiery and didn’t seem to know the difference between her own left and right feet. But she was kind. And when they explained to her what they were doing, she was thoughtful rather than immediately fearful.

“And you haven’t died?” She asked. “That’s so interesting because I mean I read so many books as a child that would have suggested that at all. And we’ve been living in this world where everything was supposed to scare us.”

“But it was all done so with a purpose.” Sarah added on when Rachel had stopped talking. “It was done so to stop us questioning the status quo.” 

Rachel sat in silence for a moment. “It reeks of conspiracy to high hell.” She admitted. “And I can’t say that I don’t want to meet some witch hunters. And the coven. Well… I’m not on the best terms with them anyways. I.” She snorted. “I may have broken a very well-known vase in Renee’s house last time I was there for a gathering. Then I peaced out and well, things haven’t been the same since.” 

Emma burst into laughter. “You’re telling me you broke Renee’s vase and now you’ve excommunicated yourself.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” Rachel huffed, but broke down into giggles. “I suppose I did excommunicate myself a bit. I’m involved insofar as I still receive the newsletters and I’m invited to the gatherings; I just haven’t gone since I broke that vase so it’s been a month.” 

“Ah, so a recent ex-communicate.” Sarah nodded wisely. “Makes sense.” 

“In what way does it make sense?” Rachel asked

“Well.” Emma answered for her girlfriend, “Makes sense why you’re so open to our ideas. You haven’t been inducted into the cult yet.” 

Rachel eyed the two of them. “Side note. I am the hugest fan of lesbian witches so props. Female power!”

Sarah and Emma smiled at one another. “Lesbian witches is a pretty great moniker.” Emma admitted. “But it might be more accurate to say bi-witches.” 

“It sounds like bicycle.” Rachel said in a complete deadpan. 

They all laughed. It was a comfortable moment, where Emma wasn’t worried about what would come next. If there were witches like this, and she supposed that most of them were, then the whole aspect of destiny and prophecy didn’t seem so daunting. After a longer conversation, where she and Sarah broached the idea that maybe Rachel could come to a meetup with the hunters. Although she had been nervous, she had agreed.

“I think it’s important to open up how we see the world.” She had said. “How else would you learn things? That’s not to say I’m not nervous but I trust you two.”

“Why would you trust us?” Emma asked curiously. “You just met us.”

Rachel shrugged. “Call it gut instinct. It’s a gift.” And she winked.

Ever since that meeting, they had offered Rachel a spot in their hybrid coven. Emma still thought the name was complete nonsense but as Sarah said, it was all they had for now.

“Hybrid coven.” Emma snorted as they exited the café hours later. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Hey” Sarah defended the title. “Rachel seemed to like it.”

Not responding, Emma instead threaded her hand through Sarah’s. “What she liked.” She corrected softly, “Was the kind of people we are. She liked that she wasn’t judged around us. She liked that she wouldn’t have to worry about the labels and nonsense that the coven likes to propagate.” 

Sarah nodded, “But she also liked the name.” 

Emma laughed. So long as she had Sarah by her side with a healthy dose of humor, it really seemed like nothing could bring them down. The next day they met Laila, who luckily was just was pleasant and kind as Rachel. She was an elderly woman who tottered around her garden and exceptionally enjoyed talking about pottery. Emma again felt pleasantly surprised. She had no idea that so many witches were open to the idea of things changing. For some reason, she though that witches would be like old men, that they would think that because a thing wasn’t harming them in the moment, that no change would keep everything as it was, and that the current state was inherently good. Witches, it turned out, were quite the opposite. Although she had only met a few, the majority of them were interested by things that they did not understand. It came from magic, Emma thought wisely to herself. It came from the idea that even witches didn’t fully understand magic, where it came from and why some people had it and others did not. Hunters were just another unknown, something to be studied and interacted with. Two witches was just the start but, she hoped, it would be a good start and with any luck, they would meet more witches, hunters and before long, their hybrid coven would be more like a community where everyone could be themselves without worrying about another species hunting them down.


	35. Chapter 35

It had been harder than Emma had imagined. Creating a gathering place or just a one-time gathering spot for hunters and witches was challenging. Either the witches wanted to meet on a full moon, or the hunters wanted to meet in someplace that witches found completely dodgy. This, she thought to herself, must be what it would be like to schedule playdates for her potentially future children. A constant tug of war between two parties that didn’t really know what they wanted. 

Throughout all of this, though, she was lucky to have Sarah by her side. Whenever she was feeling particularly glum and unhappy, Sarah was always there to grab her hand and take her out for a walk or tell her firmly that she had done enough work for today.

“So.” Sarah started one day over breakfast. “What is the plan exactly? I know you’ve been working hard to try and bring people together, but is that the end goal?”

Emma sighed into her coffee. “It’s not as simple as bringing people together.” She explained calmly. “The idea is to start with these eight people right. We have you, me, Harry, Holly, Pete, Jasmine, Rachel and Laila. To be honest, I’m already worried about how now the balance will be off. But getting beyond that, I want to put them in a place that doesn’t have any history of our conflict, which is difficult enough to do in Boston, and I want to make sure that they have a chance to connect without any of the other factors interfering.”

“And you’re having trouble dealing with all of these mitigating factors.” Sarah acknowledged. “I can imagine that’s really hard, Em, but well… not to burst your bubble. But you’re never going to successfully deal with all of them. There is always going to be something you don’t expect. So, rather than constantly worry and try to take into account everything, why don’t you make a concrete list and then just go full steam ahead.” 

Emma looked at her, biting her lip. “I just… I feel like there’s just one chance at this, one small way to pull this off. And if I mess it up, then I’ll be failing.”

“First of all.” Sarah took her hand. “There’s never just one chance. If, and even if, this somehow goes horribly wrong, we can try again. Sure, it won’t be easy and it sure as well will be harder than this time – but another time would come around.”

“I just don’t want it to come to that.” Emma admitted. “I don’t want to fail.”

Sarah tapped her head. “That’s something that you and your therapist need to discuss.”

Emma stuck her tongue out, feeling playful. “You’re my therapist.” 

“No, I’m your girlfriend who is a therapist.” Sarah corrected, but her eyes danced with mirth. “You need an actual therapist.” 

“Are you saying I’m crooked somewhere up here?” 

Sarah’s eyes softened. “You know I don’t mean that. We all should have therapists. It’s just someone to talk about your problems with who is completely removed from the situation. Honestly, Em. You know this.” 

Emma smiled. “I know. I’m just being difficult.” 

After a quick kiss, they both went back to their breakfast. Despite their conversation, a feeling of doom followed Emma around as she started to prepare in earnest for their meeting. In the end, she decided that they could get cannoli’s in the North End of Boston. There was definitely history there but luckily it was Italian and even though there had been both hunters and witches among the Italian immigrants, none of them were Italian or had the heritage. It seemed like a… well, if she was admitting it to herself, it seemed like a decent place. There was a high chance that something could go wrong, but she hoped that it wouldn’t happen. 

But if it did, the streets were fairly wide. There were lots of ways in and out of the area that meant both the witches and the hunters could separate before anyone saw them. Emma didn’t know who she was fearing. Was it the coven? Was it other hunters? Was she worried in some way that there was another higher authority that was just waiting to judge her? If she was being honest with herself, she thought it was probably the latter. The coven felt like such small beans. Renee, Evelyn and Carol hadn’t bothered her in months. Now it had slowly become a warm and terribly humid Boston summer. And even if the witches from the coven weren’t bothering her, the weather most certainly was. In fact, it was so distracting that it was all she could do to not focus on it inordinately every second of every day. 

What was she worrying about? The worry followed her around as she planned the meet-up, as she walked to the cannoli shop, and even as she saw her friends faces. But then she saw Sarah and it all of that worry seemed to fall away. Sarah looked as though she had been waiting for this meeting for days. Her hair was perfect. Her face looked as though she had spent days perfecting the ‘I just woke up like this – flawless’ look. As she looked at Sarah, she felt most of that worry peel away. They were here. Things would be okay. 

After they all got their cannoli’s and rounded the corner to stand around a small park, everyone turned to her to say some kind of words. Emma blushed.

“I want to thank everyone for being here. I don’t know if the cannoli convinced you or the company did but either way – thank you. You all know, I’m Emma. And I’m really happy you thought you could take the chance to get to know someone like me or someone like Holly. I think that we’ve been fighting for such a long time and for most of us, we don’t even know why we’re doing it anymore. This.” And she looked around, so she met the eyes of everyone there. “This represents, I think, the best chance we have to fight so much of the prejudice in our communities. I don’t know if we want to do this missionary style.” Sarah groaned slightly and facepalmed. “Or we just want to do this our own way but there’s time for that conversation later. For now, eat cannoli’s, drink, and be merry.” 

A smattering of applause followed her remarks and then a silence. “Well, come on, lets’ chat.” Emma cried and went to talk with Holly and Laila.

“So, you’re telling me you don’t use ritualized fertilizer when you garden?” Laila asked Holly in disbelief, the skin on her forehead wrinkling as she raised her eyebrows. “How on earth do you grow anything?” 

Holly laughed. “Normal fertilizer. I’m a hunter, Laila.” She laughed again. “We don’t have access to this special kind of fertilizer. We just do it by hand.” 

Laila looked scandalized. “Not for much longer, I tell you that. We’re going to exchange numbers after this meeting and I’m going to give you some of my supply. I can’t stand it when a gardener doesn’t have the right tools.” 

Holly smiled indulgingly. “I won’t say no.” 

Emma smiled and retreated to see where Pete was talking with Rachel and Sarah. Sarah shot her a smile but didn’t say much else.

“So,” Rachel said in that chirpy voice. “You’re a hiker?” 

“Definitely.” Pete agreed. “But I’m just a casual one. What is you like to do in your spare time?” 

“Mostly just read.” Rachel smiled. “I’m extremely klutzy and knock too many things over to be active.” 

Pete laughed. “My daughter is just like that. She’s a menace when allowed on the hiking trail.” 

“It sounds like your daughter and I would be good friends.” Rachel smiled. “Wonder will never cease.”

Pete agreed. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” He paused. “I never would have thought that witches were actually just people too. In retrospect, it’s damning the amount of stuff we take for granted from our leaders and from our history when actually things aren’t that way at all.”

“I feel the same way.” Rachel scratched the back of her neck. “I always believed all of the stories about witch hunters and just everything they said in general. To know now that it isn’t true and that I was probably tricking myself my whole life, it’s kind of ridiculous.” 

Emma stepped away again, confident that Sarah would have the situation under control and that Rachel and Pete’s conversation was going somewhere actually useful. This last time, she stepped up to Harry and Jasmine.

“You have no idea how nervous I was.” She heard Harry admitting to Jasmine. “I just… I’m someone who likes to stick in their lane. Maybe that sounds bad but – “ 

“I don’t think it sounds bad.” Jasmine said kindly. “We’ve heard nothing but horrible stories about your type. I’m sure you’ve had the same. It makes sense why you would be nervous. I was a little nervous myself.” 

“How did you get over it?” He asked

Jasmine shrugged. “I do things that I’m scared of. I continually put myself in situations that frighten me. And then things like this, well it’s nothing compared to some of the hikes that Pete and I try to push ourselves to do.” 

Again, Emma took a step back. It seemed like everyone’s conversations and interactions were going well. Sarah walked up behind her and held her hand tightly, pressing a small intimate kiss to her lips. As she looked around, she couldn’t help but feel a small inordinate feeling of pride, squeezing Sarah’s hand. She had done this. She had brought these people together. Well, they had done it. They had all contributed something, whether it was their bravery for coming here even when they were frightened or their help actually planning it. It wasn’t precisely peace yet, but it was something on the way. But, as she reflected, peace didn’t happen in a day. This wasn’t Ancient Greece or Rome where peace was brought by chariots and armies. This would be a peace that took time; one where they would have to talk person to person for as long as it took. And it was as rewarding as this? She smiled to herself and at Sarah, then she didn’t mind what else destiny had in store for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone so much who has read through my Nanowrimo this year! I'm going to take a break and then go back through this and slough it out ** I mean edit ** what I have.


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